


The Lucifer Problem

by FictionalNutter



Series: Problem 'verse [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Hurt Sam Winchester, M/M, Protective Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Psychic Abilities, Sam Winchester-centric, Suicidal Sam, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Suicide Notes, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-13
Packaged: 2018-02-11 20:13:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2081637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FictionalNutter/pseuds/FictionalNutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Sam try to make it work, but after Heaven, it becomes clear to Dean that it would be best to separate. Sam decides to let Dean stop the apocalypse, while Sam takes on the Lucifer problem. After all, if Lucifer doesn't have a true vessel to take, he'll be that much easier to defeat. Sam goes off the grid, and not even Castiel can find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Taking (Another) Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rose_0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rose_0/gifts).



Everything was worse after Heaven. Castiel was despondent, upset by the knowledge that his Father was staying deliberately uninvolved. Dean was sort of wading through life, not really putting in a lot of effort into his actions. Both of them had essentially given up on everything. Sam couldn't think of a way to help either one of them, not that either was looking for his help, so he stayed quiet and avoided them both.

It was easier to avoid Castiel, because the angel was rarely around anyway. As much as Sam had come to crave the presence of the angel, Castiel still only seemed to show up whenever he either needed something or Dean was yelling for him. Sam had realized at one point that Castiel being willing to be around him almost felt like a type of forgiveness for his wrongs. The feeling only lasted temporarily though, since Castiel really wasn't there very often. Dean, on the other hand, was always around. They had always lived in each other's pockets, but it hadn't been this uncomfortable since before the break they'd had after Sam had killed Lilith. Things had slowly gotten better after they met up again, but of course it couldn't last. Maybe if they had come back to life right away, but instead they'd gotten a tour around Heaven itself. Sam knew that he should be relieved he'd even gone to Heaven in the first place, but he had found the experience unsettling. Nothing felt right about the entire adventure, but Sam wondered if that hadn't been the point all along. Maybe his tainted blood had screwed up the process that figured out your best memories, and that was why everything had been so uncomfortable. Whatever the case, the end result had been Dean losing his faith.

Sam knew that Dean had lost faith in general, not just in him, but he couldn't help but take his brother's lapse into hopelessness personally. After all, Dean hadn't just thrown away their chance to find God, but the symbol of his and Sam's relationship since childhood. Sam now had it in his jacket pocket. He didn't dare wear it, not wanting to set his brother off, but he clung to it as a reminder of what he'd lost. Maybe it could help him find a way to make it right.

If that latest development wasn't bad enough, they still had an apocalypse to handle, and that was getting harder to manage every day. Of course, that was a secret Sam was keeping from Dean. If Dean knew how bad Sam's night visits from Lucifer were, or that he was having them at all, it wouldn't end well. So instead, Sam took sleep medication that knocked him out and kept him out. That way, he may have been trapped in the nightmares Lucifer sent to get him to say yes, but at least he wouldn't scream out loud. Dean didn't need something else to worry about.

Lucifer occasionally visited during the day in pseudo-visions that Sam found disturbing, but he'd found a way to cope with those too. He'd taken to carrying a razor blade in his wallet, taking a moment to add to the neat lines across his arm whenever the pressure was too much. It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was something that helped him manage what he had to live with. He made sure the scars were high enough on his arm that they couldn't be seen if his jacket happened to ride up. Dean would probably take issue with him cutting himself, but Sam knew his brother wouldn't understand the purpose of the exercise. It wasn't a conversation he wanted to have.

One brother had given up, and one was barely functioning under the weight of the devil. They were supposed to save the world? Sam sometimes doubted that they'd be able to save themselves. He was the one still fighting though, albeit poorly, so he put on a brave face and did his best to keep Dean moving. It was clear that his brother thought Sam didn't want to be around him, but Sam was going to ensure that he wasn't an additional strain on Dean. He would be the best support he could be, and help Dean regain enough faith to stop the devil. In the end, that was all he could do.

Everything fell apart after the simplest hunt they could have taken. It hadn't even been the hunt they were heading towards. Sam had picked up some information during a stop for gas along their route that pointed to a local haunting. As he told Dean, it couldn't hurt to take care of it, since they were already in town. His brother had reluctantly agreed, and they'd done the necessary research to identify the spirit. Once they'd found her, they headed to the cemetery and burned the body. Open and shut, or so it seemed. They never did get off easy, after all. The spirit came after them as soon as they lit the fire, knocking Sam over with an invisible force and rushing towards Dean. Sam was dazed from a knock on a tombstone, and unable to get up.

Dean ended up pinned against a tree, struggling for breath against the force the spirit was using to constrict his airways. He couldn't reach any weapons, and was fighting uselessly.

Sam made a desperate grab for the shotgun, still unable to stand, and swung it around, firing at the spirit. He caught her, but it wasn't a clean shot, and some of the projectile rock salt struck Dean's leg full force.

"AGH! Dammit!" Dean swore as he fell to the ground, the spirit vanishing for the moment.

Sam tried to rise, clutching at his head as he did so, but he couldn't get his legs under him just yet. A glance at his hand confirmed that the head wound was bleeding, but he ignored it for the moment. "Are you okay?" He called out. The fact that Dean could swear probably meant he was all right, but he had to be sure.

Dean rose slowly, limping towards Sam with a thunderous expression on his face. "Just peachy," he snapped. "What's the bitch attached to?"

Sam winced as he managed to finally stand, using a tombstone for support. "I dunno," he admitted. "Probably something in the house somewhere. There wasn't anything in the research to indicate-"

"Well there damn well should have been," Dean snapped, rubbing absently at the leg Sam had caught with the rock salt. He wasn't putting any weight on it. "We need to go check out the house, and you need to get something on that head. I don't want blood on the seats."

Sam figured that was about as much concern as he was going to get, but that was fine. If anything, Dean's reaction told him that the head wound wasn't as serious as it could have been. His brother was pissed, not cruel. He put his hand to it again to apply pressure and using his other hand to grab the supply bag, stumbling after his brother towards the car.

In the end, the spirit had been attached to an heirloom necklace. Dean had been the one to destroy it while Sam stood guard, and they thankfully avoided another run in with the spirit herself. Satisfied that the job was done, they headed to the local motel. They hadn't booked a room before, not expecting to be in town that long, but Dean didn't want to drive overnight after a hunt, and Sam was more than willing to sleep in a bed rather than the car. His head still throbbed, but at least it had stopped bleeding.

Finally in the room, Dean immediately stripped down to his boxer briefs and t-shirt, hefting his leg up onto the bed to examine it. He had what almost looked like road rash on most of his calf, but would probably be okay once it was cleaned out. He winced and applied some antibacterial cream to it, wrapping it gently in gauze so he wouldn't aggravate the wound in his sleep. His next step was to pull out one of their whiskey bottles and pour himself a generous glass.

Sam knew better than to mention the alcohol, but he did address the injury from earlier. "Dean, look, I'm sorry I caught you with the shotgun spray. I just wanted to stop her choking you."

"Yeah, well, you did that," Dean acknowledged, taking a long swig of the whiskey.

Letting it be, Sam headed for the bathroom, intending to clean out his head wound. It didn't look as bad as he'd imagined, and he was relieved that the largest part of the job was just cleaning blood out of his hair. It looked like he was going to have a nasty bruise though, and he wasn't sure if he was at risk for a concussion or not. He thought about asking Dean to check him for one, but decided it was best not to rock the boat.

When he emerged from the bathroom, Dean was already on his second glass of whiskey. "Sam, sit," he ordered, gesturing to the chair across from his bed.

Sam sat, eyeing his brother warily. "What is it?"

"I need you to have my back, dude," Dean said tiredly. "I mean, it's one thing knowing that you don't want to be here, but when that means that you also can't do simple research right or your aim goes to crap, then we're both in danger, and that's just idiotic." He swished the glass and took another swig, his jaw hard.

Sam didn't argue, knowing that it wasn't going to do any good. The research and aim weren't technically his fault, but at the same time he had inadvertently been responsible for injuring both himself and Dean, which was definitely a risk. It was hard to focus on the small things when the large things were so much more important, and maybe Sam had lost sight of that. "I'm sorry," he said again, doing his best to express the sentiment with his expression as well as his words. "I swear, I will do better next time."

"Look..." Dean trailed off, closing his eyes and rubbing at his forehead with a sigh. He reopened his eyes and focused on Sam again. "At this point, I'm not sure we aren't doing more harm than good. I mean, sure, we gave the 'two of us against the world' thing a try, but I think we've got jack squat for it. You're distracted, and you're distracting me, and this isn't going to end well. I think, until all this apocalypse crap is over at least, we need to go at this from separate angles."

There was a long pause while Sam tried to figure out how to process that. He'd been doing his best to ensure that Dean didn't lose hope as well as faith, but maybe Dean had given up on him more than he had on the mission. If that was true, then Sam being with him was a hindrance to Dean stopping the apocalypse. He tried to consider the situation pragmatically. If Sam left, then he wouldn't be distracting Dean. If Dean wasn't distracted, he could focus on stopping Lucifer. Sam had assumed that Dean needed support to accomplish the mission, but maybe if he stepped back, Dean could rise up and take care of it himself.

"So, you want me to leave?" Sam asked as neutrally as possible, raising an eyebrow to show he was just clarifying the bottom line.

"Yeah, I think that's probably best for now." Dean rubbed at his leg absently and finished off his drink.

"Okay," Sam agreed, getting to his feet. An idea was starting to brew in his head, and he was starting to wonder if maybe this was for the best after all.

"Where you going to head?" Dean asked, looking surprised that Sam had agreed without a fight.

Sam shrugged, packing away what little he'd managed to unpack since they'd been in the room. "I'll figure it out once I'm on the road."

Dean seemed to realize Sam was packing and shook his head suddenly. "Wait, dude, you don't have to go tonight," he pointed out. "At least wait until morning."

Sam shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'll get a heard start on travel."  _On picking a different hemisphere_ , his brain supplied unhelpfully. "You need the rest more than I do. Don't stress that leg too much." He shrugged his jacket back on, patting the pocket on instinct to make sure the little bronze amulet was still there.

"You sure?" Dean checked, but was already laying back on the bed, supporting his leg gingerly.

"Yeah. Good luck, all right?" Sam gave his brother a half smile, tossing his bag over his shoulder.

"You too," Dean replied. "Take care of yourself."

Sam figured saying 'you too' again would be repetitive, so he just nodded and headed out the door. He was half inclined to steal a car from the parking lot, but that wasn't going to be his wisest move, and he didn't want to have to deal with law enforcement if he could help it. Hitch hiking it was then. His mission wasn't necessarily location specific, so he just needed to find a good home base to work from. Probably secluded, just in case.

Solving the Lucifer problem was Sam's responsibility. Stopping the apocalypse was Dean's, and Sam wasn't going to challenge that again, but there was one thing that only Sam could do, and that was deny Lucifer his vessel. The problem was, Lucifer wouldn't let him die. Originally, when he'd told Sam that, Sam had tested the theory. Several stereotypical methods of suicide hadn't worked, and Sam had some odd scars he'd had to find creative ways to hide from Dean when they met up again. Explaining a bullet wound over his heart wasn't exactly a conversation he wanted to have. The razor blade he'd made use of had helped with some of the panic he'd had after seven separate attempts to end his life hadn't worked. Another secret he'd kept.

Now, he knew what his mission should be. Dean would focus on stopping Lucifer, but Sam would focus on removing himself from the equation. If Lucifer couldn't have his true vessel, eventually he'd burn out of his current one, or Dean would find a way to kill him, or something. Somehow, it would end. That was only if Sam kept himself off the playing field. He knew from his previous experimentation that his suicides only left him down for the count for a few hours, so it wasn't practical to just continually kill himself, even if he found a way to do that easily. Instead, he needed a way to make his death permanent, so nobody could raise him, not even God. Actually, Sam wasn't sure what kind of limitations, if any, God had, but considering He didn't seem involved, Sam figured he probably didn't need to be worried.

Bobby would have been a good stop for the kind of lore Sam needed to look into, but Bobby was smart. He would figure out what Sam was doing, and he would object to it. He'd probably call Dean too, and Dean wouldn't be thrilled with the idea. Sam wasn't sure how hard he'd have to fight his brother to convince him of his point, but he figured it wasn't worth the effort to get either Dean or Bobby involved. An angel might know how to keep him dead, but Sam didn't have one to turn to who would help. Castiel would probably object just based on the fact that Dean probably wouldn't be happy about it. Sam felt a twinge of jealousy at that thought, as he always did when faced with the reality that Dean was the one the angels wanted, not Sam. There was always the archangel Gabriel, but Sam didn't think he could trust him to help. Any other angel Sam knew was invested in the success of the apocalypse, which meant Lucifer getting his true vessel.

There were always the demons, though Sam wanted to avoid them as long as possible. He may well have to consult with Hell eventually, but he would start with research. Somehow, he would find a way to stay dead. Until then, he would make do with staying off the grid.


	2. Setting Up Shop

It took two days for Sam to finish the mental checklist he'd created for himself. First, he needed a base camp. His particular mission didn't necessarily warrant much moving around, and he needed to be somewhere secluded, where nobody would find him while he tested various ways of making his death permanent. He didn't need some civilian freaking out because they'd found a dead body, or worse, freaking out in the unfortunately likely event that that dead body came back to life. He settled for a cabin about thirty minutes outside a reasonable sized town in Idaho. It was secluded, he had no reason to be there, and it was only a few hours from a library that had a lot of supernatural lore, just in case he needed the resources he couldn't go to Bobby for.

Thankfully, the cabin was already set up for wireless from a previous owner, so all Sam had to do was activate it and set up his own precautions to make sure he couldn't be traced. He changed his voicemail message to inform any callers that he was off the grid, and if they had an emergency they should e-mail him, then set about setting up precautions for his e-mail so it wasn't traceable if he logged into it and checked his messages or sent any e-mails. He didn't expect to hear from Dean, but Bobby would probably get anxious if he didn't hear from Sam, so it was better to have an emergency contact method of some sort. Being off the grid didn't mean he didn't want to be in the know.

The rest of Sam's checklist included warding the cabin against anything he could think of, stocking up on sleep medication from six different drug stores at his various stops as he hitch hiked his way to Idaho, and preparing an "after" package for Bobby, Dean, and Castiel. The "after" package was addressed to Bobby's scrapyard, and contained letters to Bobby, Dean, and Castiel, and would also contain anything of his they might find useful after he was dead. He left the box out on the table in the cabin, open so he could place in it what he needed to before any experiments. He'd already set up a message that, unless he deactivated it every day, would automatically send to the local post office ensuring someone would come pick up the box in the event that one of his experiments actually worked. He didn't pack everything up to start with because he still needed his laptop, and he'd taken to wearing the amulet now that he was on his own, and he wasn't going to put that in the box unless he was certain he would be successful.

The letters he had done as soon as he finished setting up the cabin. The one for Bobby was largely a thank you letter to the man for essentially being the best surrogate father they could have ever asked for. It was also full of Sam's gratitude that Bobby hadn't exiled him after he'd set Lucifer free, because God knew he'd needed the support. Dean's letter was considerably more detailed in the various facets of Sam's gratitude. After all, his brother had practically raised him, and Sam had idolized Dean for pretty much his whole life. There were a lot more apologies in Dean's letter too, because Sam kept thinking of other things he should express his regret over. Ultimately, if he somehow garnered Dean's forgiveness, that would be all he desired, and Sam let that be his guide as he wrote to his brother.

Castiel was a whole other story. Sam had waffled over writing the angel a letter at all, but decided in the end that he had to. While Castiel may have been closer to Dean, he had saved Sam's life multiple times, and had never rejected Sam, even though he was clearly aware of the fact that Sam was corrupt. It was hard for Sam to deal with the fact that the angels didn't want him, but at least Castiel didn't hate him, and that was huge. That ended up being the primary theme of Sam's letter to the angel, along with apologies that Sam felt were relevant and appropriate.

Once he'd gotten that emotionally draining process out of the way, Sam sat down with his laptop, took a deep breath, and started the mission he'd isolated himself to do. One way or another, he would destroy any chance Lucifer had of gaining his true vessel.

* * *

Dean had made it to the hunt he and Sam had originally been headed toward the afternoon following Sam's departure. Based on the research they'd done ahead of time, it looked like a single werewolf, so Dean was confident he could handle it. Unfortunately, a visit to the coroner revealed that the autopsy information had been inaccurate. The hearts weren't missing - they had melted into the victim's bodies. There was a cavity where their heart should be, but only because the muscle had literally liquefied. The kicker was that according to the coroner, all evidence of some kind of animal attack had been done after the victims were dead.

After doing what research he could by himself and coming up completely empty handed, Dean gave up and called Bobby the next morning.

"This better be good," Bobby warned him, forgoing a hello. "It's seven in the morning and I haven't had any damn coffee yet."

Dean snorted. "Me either, so I'll be quick. So, if I say to you supposed victims of an animal attack with missing hearts, you say...?"

"Werewolf," Bobby said immediately, as though the answer was obvious. "Which you know, so what's the problem?"

"According to the coroner, all evidence of animal attacks was after the vics were dead, and the hearts weren't taken, they melted. The heart is technically still in the body, just in liquid form." Dean announced the new findings with a tone that very clearly indicated he wanted to see exactly what Bobby made of that.

"Screw it, I'm getting the coffee now," Bobby muttered. "All right, so you've got a weird one. Any theories?"

"Why do you think I'm calling you?" Dean snorted. "I've exhausted what I can do with a library research computer. I'm stumped."

"What, Sam couldn't find anything on his laptop?" Bobby asked, miscellaneous banging noises in the background indicating he was making his coffee.

Dean winced. He hadn't wanted to have this conversation with Bobby so soon, but the hunt hadn't really left him a choice. "Sam's, uh, not here."

Bobby's background noises paused, and he asked carefully, "Then where is he?"

"Not sure," Dean admitted. "We decided it would be mutually beneficially to go our separate ways for awhile, so he took off night before last."

"Dammit, Dean!" Bobby snapped, a clink sounding like he'd just slammed down a mug. "I thought you idjits had already established that splitting up was a bad idea."

"Yeah, well, this time it was for the best," Dean argued defensively. "We weren't really helping each other by being together."

"Boy, last time you two split up, you got kidnapped and hurtled into the future by Zachariah, and Sam-" Bobby cut off mid sentence, then continued with, "You two are weaker apart, and always have been. People will come after you if they figure out you're flying solo."

Bobby was the only person Dean had gone into detail about his 2014 trip with, mostly because there was no way he was telling Sam or Castiel the details, and Bobby would be able to get his head in the right place, which he had. Dean was distracted by the unfinished sentence though. "Sam what, Bobby? Did something happen when we were apart before?" All Sam had ever told Dean about their time apart was that he had found a job and laid low in Oklahoma, trying to get his head together. Apparently Bobby knew more than he did.

"Nothing," Bobby said firmly. "It ain't my place, it's Sam's. God alone knows why you two idjits keep secrets from each other though. All my gray hair and the spots that are altogether bald? It's your fault, the both of you."

Dean half chuckled at that, not being able to remember a time when Bobby hadn't been gray and balding. "If something happened, I need to know about it," he tried to reason.

"No, what you need to do is track down your brother and work on this broken team dynamic you're apparently suffering from again." Bobby insisted.

Dean scowled, reminded of the disastrous trip to Heaven and the clear sign that to Sam, they were anything but a team. "It's a lot of things, Bobby, but we're going to tackle this thing separately, and work from different angles. Once the apocalypse is over, we'll work on it, okay? Look, do you have any ideas about the hunt?"

Clearly dissatisfied, but declining to argue further, Bobby sighed. "Nothing springs to mind, but I'll look into it on this end. Why don't you ask your guardian angel?"

It hadn't occurred to Dean to use Castiel as a resource the way he did Bobby, but he had to admit it wasn't a half bad idea. "If he answers his phone," Dean pointed out.

"Doesn't hurt to try. Let me know if you figure it out. Otherwise I'll call you if I find anything." Bobby took a sip of something on his end and sighed contentedly.

"Will do," Dean confirmed. He snapped the phone shut and stared at it for a second, before flipping it open again to dial Castiel.

"Yes, Dean?" The angel answered on the first ring.

"Whoa, that was quick," Dean said, surprised. "Look, I'm in Opal Basin, Illinois, Tulip Grove Motel, Room 26, and I need-" Dean cut off mid sentence as Castiel appeared in front of him. Hanging up the phone, he tossed into onto the bed behind him and continued his sentence. "I've got a really weird case, and I could use some help."

Castiel eyed the room curiously, not responding immediately. He took notice of the single bed and the luggage for one person, then turned to Dean, expression curious. "Where is Sam?"

Dean frowned, irritated by the fact that Sam's absence had overshadowed his need for help on this case not once, but twice now. "Gone, we split up two days ago. Can we focus on the case?"

Castiel's eyes widened in alarm. "Why would you do that?" He demanded.

"Do we have to do this now?" Dean asked derisively. "I have four victims that I can't explain how they died, and there'll probably be more if I don't figure it out."

"Dean, the apocalypse will literally end billions of lives. Yes, we do have to do this now. I will help you with your case, but we need to find Sam." Castiel's expression was urgent.

"Why? Dude can look after himself just fine," Dean said, exasperated. "He doesn't need a babysitter. He's off the blood, as far as I can tell, and certainly as independent as ever."

"He does not need to be supervised, Dean," Castiel scolded him. "He needs to be supported. The weight he is standing under is more vast than I believe you realize."

"How so?" Dean challenged, crossing his arms.

"Sam has been withstanding the onslaught of Lucifer's advances on a nightly basis for months," Castiel informed him gravely. "He is remarkably silent about it. I am only aware because he inquired if there was anything he could do to block Lucifer's entrance. Unfortunately, I do not possess the power to alter his mind enough in my weakened state, and there is no spell that could provide lasting assistance without damaging his mind. He has not mentioned it since, but I know it has not stopped. Based on what little he told me, I believe Lucifer alternates between psychological warfare and physical torment, hoping one will deliver Sam to him. Your brother is strong beyond measure, Dean." Castiel stared at Dean evenly, deliberate in his words to convey exactly what Dean had been missing about his younger brother.

Dean blinked once, visibly surprised. "That can't be right," he argued, tone too shocked to be angry anymore. "Sam's loud when he has nightmares. He's always screamed or cried or _something_. I'm usually the one to wake him up so he can actually get some real sleep. If Lucifer was torturing his mind at night, I think it would have been pretty obvious."

Castiel continued to gaze at Dean, though his eyes narrowed. "It is my belief that Sam turned to human medicinal remedies to attempt to solve the problem. Perhaps that is why you do not hear him."

Dean was suddenly and abruptly aware of the few times he'd seen his brother taking pills when he'd thought Dean wasn't looking. Dean had taken a peek when Sam was in the shower once, not sure if he needed to be worried, and backed off when he realized it was sleep medication. Nothing too troubling, so Dean had let it go. Now, he wondered if Sam took the medication to keep himself quiet, rather than to help him sleep.

"As I said," Castiel commented with a raised eyebrow, "Sam is strong. He is not, however, invulnerable, and neither are you. You both need support."

"Sam doesn't want my support," Dean snapped. The nightmare thing was concerning, but it didn't exactly overshadow the Heaven debacle. "That was perfectly clear in Heaven."

Castiel immediately looked bewildered, which was an unsettling expression on him. "What do you mean?"

"All his memories were of times he ditched Dad and I," Dean explained. "Doesn't exactly fill me with confidence." Castiel looked like he wanted to protest the assertion, but Dean held up a hand to stop him. "Dude, just drop it. I have some kind of monster I can't identify to catch, and if you could help me figure out what I'm looking for, that would be great."

Castiel frowned, but slowly nodded, deciding not to argue further for the time being. Internally, he resolved to search for Sam Winchester. Nobody could fight a war alone, no matter what Dean may think. Someone needed to remind them both that they had support, but Dean was too stubborn to accept Castiel's advice on the matter. Sam, on the other hand, Castiel was sure he could help. He just needed to find him first.

* * *

_"Sam, wake up."_

_Sam slowly rolled over in bed, the thin sheet on the cot in the cabin sliding off of him. It hadn't really been enough to cover him anyway. "Go away," he snarled, glaring daggers at the stunning vision of his dead girlfriend._

_Jess pouted. "Don't be like that, Sam. It doesn't have to be one of_ those _nights. I promise, I'm not the bad guy here."_

_Sam rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. "This is getting old. I'm not changing my mind, and eventually you're going to completely run out new ways to try and make me."_

_Jess morphed into Dean, and Sam fell off the cot in shock at the transformation._

_"Sorry, Sammy, looks like I still have a few tricks up my sleeve," Dean chuckled._

_That was new. Lucifer was_ never _Dean. "NO." Sam said loudly and firmly, backing up against the wall._

_"I haven't even asked the question yet," Dean protested._

_"I meant this," Sam snapped, gesturing to his brother's body. "You've corrupted the memories I have of Jess, and decimated what good memories I had of my parents. You don't get to touch Dean."_

_Dean shrugged and lounged on the cot, completely relaxed. "From what I gather, the two of you have been chipping away at your relationship anyway. You betray him, keep secrets from him, and eventually it's too much and he kicks you out. Sound about right?"_

_At least Lucifer was speaking as if Dean was somewhere else, not himself. That helped Sam stay grounded. The words still hurt though. "Once I've fixed my mistake, I'll be able to make it up to him," Sam determined. "I'll do whatever I have to to end you."_

_Dean chuckled. "Good luck with that. You will say yes."_

_"You always say that, but I never do," Sam challenged. He blinked, and suddenly he was back on his cot, strapped down with leather and bare chested, despite the fact that he'd been in a t-shirt seconds before._

_"We'll see," Dean said casually, twirling a razor sharp blade between his fingers. "Should I go for the knives today, Sammy?"_

_"Don't call me that," Sam spat. Only Dean got to call him that, and he hadn't in a long time. This wasn't Dean though, so it didn't count._

_Ignoring him, Dean continued, "You seem to have a fascination with carving your skin with sharp objects, so I'm not sure this is effective." The blade vanished, only to be replaced by a red hot poker. "Do you feel the same about burning flesh?"_

_Sam kept his jaw tight and stared straight ahead, attempting to suppress his reactions as Lucifer pressed the poker to his abdomen. Eventually, as Lucifer finished burning the letter "L" into his flesh, Sam began to scream._


	3. It Shouldn't Be This Hard

Sam awoke the next morning the same way he awoke every morning. He felt mentally drained, but his body was refreshed enough from the sleep he'd gotten that he was functional. It was always worse the morning after nights where Lucifer had hurt him physically. None of the pain remained once he awoke, but he would have phantom feelings all day as a result. Lucifer had offered from the beginning to avoid the mental torture sessions if Sam would just play along when he showed up in the guise of one of Sam's loved ones, but Sam refused to give him the satisfaction.

Showing up as Dean was new though, and Sam wasn't sure how long he could last under that particular torment. Being tortured in his dreams was one thing, but being tortured by a being that looked like his brother was ten times harder. Sam distracted himself from the previous night by pulling out his laptop, reading to research. He needed now more than ever to finish what he'd set out to do.

It shouldn't have surprised him that he had an e-mail from Bobby already, but somehow it did. He opened the message, wondering what his surrogate father had to say. He probably wasn't happy with the Winchesters splitting up again.

To: Sam Winchester

From: Robert Singer

Subject: THE HELL, BOY?!

Sam,

Imagine my surprise when I get a call from your brother and he lets slip that you two have split up again. He's neck deep in some bizarre hunt, by the way, which is the only reason I even got a damn call. Apparently he's dealing with melting hearts, so maybe you caught a break missing out on that one. It seems I can't call and give you a piece of my mind, so you need to read this e-mail and imagine me knocking both of your heads together. Didn't we already do this whole separation thing? When I was trying to talk some sense into your fool brother I almost told him about your little Oklahoma adventure, but I decided that's something you need to tell him about. But, since I mentioned it, you do remember being attacked by hunters while you two were apart, right? Apparently you're hiding out somewhere now, but, Sam, you were laying low before too. I just don't want you boys getting hurt because you're having trouble reconciling with each other.

Don't think I'm the only one worried, either. Castiel was here not even an hour ago, asking if I had any idea how to track you down. I'm not sure I've ever seen that angel look so concerned, so you'd better take note. He kinda rambled something about angelic interference and that it was dangerous for you to be alone, and then he took off when I couldn't really help him. So, I guess Castiel is looking for you, just so you know. If I were you, I'd let him find you. He's seriously worried about something.

I don't expect this is convincing you to change your mind, but if you need any help doing whatever it is you're doing, you call me, boy, you hear? Hell, call Dean, even if it's just to check in. We'd all like to know you're alive, at least. Castiel definitely wants to find you for whatever reason, so you've clearly got him on your side too. I don't know where you've run off to, but you're not alone regardless, okay?

I guess that's enough said. Anyway, call me, or e-mail, or whatever if you need anything. Anything, all right?

\- Bobby

Sam tapped his fingers against the counter top absently, staring at the message with pursed lips. He didn't want Bobby to worry, but at the same time, he couldn't call to reassure anyone he was alive when the whole point of him being gone was to find a way not to be. Still, leaving Bobby hanging would cause the man undue stress, and Sam was curious why Castiel was already looking for him, and what was so urgent. He couldn't call or pray to the angel without giving him an easy way to find Sam's base camp, but maybe Bobby could be his liaison.

To: Robert Singer

From: Sam Winchester

Subject: Relax

Bobby,

Don't worry about it. We hit some rough patches lately, and I was having trouble keeping my focus, which was causing distractions for Dean. It's safer for him if I'm out of the way. He needs to focus on ending the apocalypse, and I'll focus on the one problem I can fix. Which reminds me, have Dean look into possible witch activity in that area. There were some odd things in the news reports I had planned to look into before labeling it an open and shut werewolf case, so make sure he takes another look at the articles with that mindset.

Anyway, about Cas. Did he say anything about why he was looking for me? I don't want anyone to know where I am, just in case, but maybe if he relays messages through you, he can tell me what's so important. I doubt he's just freaked because Dean and I split up, so something else has to be up. You'll be able to reach me at this e-mail, so I guess let me know if you find out anything.

\- Sam

He sent the e-mail, then leaned back in his chair to consider the computer thoughtfully. Castiel was Dean's angel, so anything that had him that worried about Sam must be about Dean. 'Angelic interference' sounded ominous, so maybe one of Michael's people was after Dean, and Castiel thought Sam could help stop it somehow? The more Sam thought about it, the less sense it made. Eventually, he closed out of his e-mail and began to pull up research links. He needed to find a way to end the danger.

If he was like anyone else, then the first seven attempts at suicide he's tried would have worked easily. He'd hit all the classics. Gunshot, strangulation, bleeding out, overdose, electrocution, drowning, and jumping into a ravine. None had left him dead for more than a few hours, which was hardly practical. Ideally, he needed some kind of spell or ritual that would allow him to do one of those things without coming back. Surely something like that existed.

_"Sam, give it up. This is a useless endeavor, and you'll only be hurting yourself." Lucifer's voice entered his mind from a distance, distracting him from the laptop screen._

Sam inhaled sharply and got up, moving over to his wallet to pull out the razor blade. The part of his brain that had allowed his visions also apparently made him susceptible to incoming messages from Lucifer whenever the archangel felt like it. It wasn't often, but the only thing that would end the visits was a few well placed slices on his arm. Usually one was enough, but Sam typically did two, just to be safe. Today, Lucifer continued to ridicule his plan after one, so Sam added the second and third in quick succession, sighing with relief as the endorphin rush flooded him and the devil shut up.

Satisfied, Sam made sure his shirt was pulled out of the way so he wouldn't get blood on it, and returned to the computer. He would disinfect the wounds after the bleeding had slowed. Allowing the pain to linger was more effective than immediately caring for the wounds, as he'd learned a long time ago. Focusing on the webpage in front of him, Sam scanned it for information on Mayan Death Rituals. Everything sounded way too elaborate and steeped in legend. He wasn't sure he had the kind of time to be wasting on that information. He bookmarked the site regardless. He couldn't afford to lose any leads, so he would come back to the Mayan information if nothing else panned out.

Clicking the next link, Sam began to explore the varied Native American rituals that had been recorded over the years. Most weren't relevant, but a few he highlighted and saved. Perhaps a combination of several methods would end up being his solution.

* * *

Dean answered his phone on the second ring. "Yeah, Bobby?"

"Well, I haven't found anything, but Sam e-mailed me back and said he thought there were some weird things in the news reports for your case. Since it isn't a werewolf, his next guess was witches." Bobby informed him gruffly, sounding irritated by something.

Dean sighed loudly. "That fits with what Cas was able to tell me when I called him. He said he could sense magic in the town, but not its source, then he took off to go take care of something. What do you mean Sam e-mailed you? Why didn't you just call him?"

"Because his voicemail message is set up to tell people to e-mail him because he's gone off the grid," Bobby snarked at him. "And your angel came here after he left you, wanting my help tracking down Sam."

Processing the fact that Sam had apparently gone into hiding, Dean asked absently, "Why does Cas want Sam?"

"He didn't tell me, but he made it sound like it was important," Bobby told him. "Also, if Sam told me that you were going to stop the apocalypse and he was going to fix the only problem he could, what the hell would you assume he meant by that?"

Dean frowned. "That sounds kind of melodramatic. He wasn't more specific than that?"

"No, and I'm afraid he's going to do something stupid," Bobby griped.

"Like Lucifer stupid?" Dean asked immediately, his tone wary.

"No, you idjit!" Bobby snapped. "Have a little faith in your brother, would you?"

Dean was silent, electing not to step on that particular landmine.

"Huh," Bobby commented after a moment. "I guess that explains what Sam meant by rough patches."

Still not answering, Dean shifted uncomfortably and scratched his shoulder, ignoring the pang that went through him as his arm brushed across the place his amulet should have been.

"Look, I'm just saying that Sam tends to take on way more than he's responsible for, and he could get himself hurt. Can you at least try to find out what he's planning?" Bobby asked.

Dean shrugged, even though he knew Bobby couldn't see him. "He's more likely to tell you."

Unfortunately, Bobby wasn't sure if that was true or not. "I'll try, but so should you. I'm not planning to lose either one of you, you hear me?"

"I hear you, Bobby. I'll shoot him an e-mail tonight, okay?" Dean wondered if the library would still be open when he finished what he could do on the hunt for the day. He found he didn't really care if he got around to the e-mail or not, and thought maybe he should feel bad about that. He was too tired to really try.

"Good. Let me know if you hear anything, and be careful on this hunt, all right?" Bobby warned him.

"I'll do my best," Dean promised. He hung up the phone, tapping it against his chin casually as he thought. He probably shouldn't have been surprised that Sam had effectively gone off the grid, but he was. Of course, having an e-mail wasn't really off the grid, but maybe Sam just wanted to make sure he wasn't causing Bobby undue worry. That seemed like something Sam would be concerned about.

Sighing, Dean started the engine in the Impala and headed towards the latest victim's house. If witches were involved, then there would be evidence. He just needed to find it.


	4. You Aren't Alone

Every time Sam tried something new, his nightmares got worse. At first, he had hoped that the increased intensity of Lucifer's torments was in response to the fact that Sam had almost succeeded, but he had let go of that dream pretty quickly. Lucifer was manipulative, smart, and cruel, and used every trick he had to make Sam suffer for even thinking of depriving him of his vessel.

Sam had been on his own for a week, and had tried two different methods of killing himself. The first time, he had used a potion he had invented himself. The recipe was an amalgamation of four different death spells and two eternal sleep curses that he hoped would at least keep him under, even if it didn't kill him. He was only gone for two hours.

The second time, which had been the day before, he had spent most of the morning enchanting an arrowhead and etching various sigils into the surface. He'd then dipped it in what remained of his death potion from the last try, and stabbed it directly into his heart. He'd been out for closer to four hours that time, but he'd still come back. The box with Bobby's address on it had been packed and unpacked twice now, and he was no closer to a solution.

It was the previous night, after his attempt with the arrowhead, when Lucifer had been really angry. He had been furious before, but his anger seemed to escalate daily. He was angry that Sam was hurting himself, whether through the cutting or his suicide attempts, and angry that Sam dared attempt to take himself out of the picture. Ultimately, he was angry that Sam wouldn't just tell Lucifer where he was and get it over with. The night before, however, was when it had finally seemed to click that all of his manipulation and threats to Sam himself weren't doing anything he wanted.

So, Lucifer went back to a trick he'd only used once so far. He became the people Sam had let down. The worst part was that he wasn't making anything up. He'd whisper words in Sam's ear that Sam had heard directly from Bobby, Dean, and even Castiel.

_"You lose my number, boy." Bobby's gruff voice snarled the words, conveying with every syllable that he wouldn't stand to be in Sam's presence a second longer._

_"You're a monster, Sam, a vampire." Dean's low tones filled with such venom that had he been a snake, his words would have been deadly._

_"Sam Winchester, the boy with the demon blood." Castiel's air of judgement, knowing from their first meeting that Sam was nothing more than an abomination to Heaven._

Any words Lucifer tried to get to him with from Bobby were easier to overcome. The most hurtful thing Bobby had ever said to him had been their conversation after he'd freed Lucifer, and the older hunter had been possessed, so it wasn't really him. Sam knew that, but he still had to remind himself.

There was a wealth of material Lucifer could sift through from the last year and a half of Sam's relationship with Dean, and even earlier if he was crafty enough. The voicemail Dean had left him when he was enroute to the convent was Lucifer's favorite, but he also liked their fight right before that and the fact that Dean had refused to take him back when he'd first found out he was Lucifer's vessel.

Somehow though, the worst was when he used Castiel's words. Sam was trying his hardest to make it up to Dean and Bobby. He knew he'd screwed up those relationships, and he was going to make it right. Castiel, however, was another matter entirely. Castiel was an angel, and Sam had committed what had to be the ultimate sin. Surely his soul was already impossibly black. He had dreamed of angels and the reality of Heaven his whole life, praying for the salvation and guidance that might come in the form of the Heavenly Host. The reality had been much harsher. Sam did not dispute that Dean should be Heaven's chosen, but he hated the fact that he had corrupted himself so fully. Even if he made it up to Dean and Bobby and earned back those relationships, there was nothing Sam could do to redeem himself before Heaven. Of that he was sure. Castiel, being the only angel Sam knew who could so much as stand to be in the same room with him, was one of the most forceful voices Lucifer could use to make him weep from condemnation.

At least, if nothing else, Sam could be thankful for the continued usefulness of his sleep medication. It didn't keep Lucifer away, but it let him wake up rested, so that was something. Sam was also thankful that he'd chosen to keep the e-mail. Bobby insisted on regular communication, and through that Sam learned that he'd been right and Dean's hunt had been witches. The hunt had been successful and Dean was apparently enroute to a suspected mass haunting with another hunter Bobby had in the area. Sam also learned that Castiel was still avidly hunting for him, but Bobby still didn't know what exactly the angel wanted.

That day, however, when Sam booted up the laptop to begin his research again, he had an e-mail from a new address.

"Every time a bell rings at gmail dot com?" Sam muttered to himself, half raising an eyebrow at the e-mail and half amused at the reference. He also had an e-mail from Bobby, so he checked that one first.

To: Sam Winchester

From: Robert Singer

Subject: Feathers

Sam,

Look out for an e-mail from Castiel. I set it up for him and showed him how it works, but who knows if he'll actually figure it out enough to send you anything. I told him that if he wanted to get a hold of you, he should at least try you this way first, rather than going through me, since you ain't telling me squat. So, yeah. Angel's got an e-mail. That's a punchline for something.

Stay safe.

\- Bobby

Sam actually chuckled now, knowing how the e-mail address came to be. Curious to find out what was causing Castiel to search for him so urgently, he clicked on the new message.

To: Sam Winchester

From: Castiel Feathers

Subject: Urgent

Sam,

Bobby informed me that I may be able to contact you with this method. He seemed skeptical that I could learn how to operate a computer well enough to send you a message, but I assumed that if I could learn how to use a mobile phone, surely electronic messaging was not a dramatic leap upwards. Also, I am unsure why the system insists on giving me a surname such as Feathers. I assume Bobby has done this, but I do not have a surname, so I am unclear as to its purpose.

Ultimately, my goal is to ascertain where you are. I am concerned for you. I am concerned for both of you, actually, but Dean is a remarkably stubborn individual, and I have found myself increasingly worried ever since you both parted ways. Bobby seems to think you are performing research. I am hesitant to ask what you might be researching, because I am fearful of the answer. I do not believe you or Dean should be alone, but I also believe that you need the support. I do not mean that I expect you to fail, if that is what you might interpret. I mean that you have a heavy burden that you do not deserve, and I am concerned that you have been forced to shoulder it alone. Compartmentalizing who is handling what aspect of the apocalypse is not wise. You should not have to deal with Lucifer's assault alone, and Dean cannot stop the entire apocalypse unaided. Please, Sam, understand me when I say that you are not alone, if only because I will do everything I can to aid you.

The message stopped there, presumably because Castiel didn't know that a sign off of some sort was customary. Sam stared at his screen for a while, not entirely sure how to respond. The fact that all of Castiel's urgent concern communicated through Bobby over the past week had been because he was worried about Sam being alone was a surprise. Even more so because Castiel didn't seem to be worried about Sam falling off the demon blood wagon or saying yes, but rather him fighting off Lucifer without help.

Taking a deep breath, Sam pulled up a reply e-mail to answer, staring at the blinking cursor for a moment before beginning.

To: Castiel Feathers

From: Sam Winchester

Subject: Thanks

Cas,

First, don't worry about the surname. Anybody you might need to e-mail knows you aren't called Castiel Feathers. The program probably required a surname, and Bobby thought it would be funny. Your e-mail address itself is a reference to an old movie about an angel. You should ask him about it sometime.

I'm not going to tell you where I am, because I don't want any interference with what I'm working on. Thank you, though, for trying. It means a lot that some part of Heaven can be worried for me instead of about me. I didn't know that was possible.

Trust me, I know Dean's stubborn. Please keep an eye on him, and don't let him do anything stupid or excessively reckless. He needs to be the one to end the apocalypse, and I know he won't do it alone. He's got Bobby and you, people he still has faith in. He doesn't have faith in me anymore, and I was only distracting him from the endgame. It's better for us to be separate right now. He can focus on saving the world like he's supposed to, and I'm going to make sure Lucifer can't get his hands on his true vessel. Without me, he's weaker. This is how I can help Dean.

Cas, again, thank you for being worried. Take care of yourself, and of Dean. I have faith in you both to stop the end of the world.

\- Sam

Sam scanned the e-mail for a moment before clicking send. It was sufficiently vague enough to not set off alarm bells that would cause mass panic among the people he cared for, and clearly conveyed his gratitude to Castiel. There was so much more that he wished he could tell the angel, but that would have to be enough for now.

He opened a new window and went back to a search he'd been doing into mythology, using his free hand to play with the razor blade he now kept out on the table next to the laptop. He was finding it necessary to use at least once a day now, where before it had only been a few times a week. At least that meant Lucifer was getting desperate. If he was desperate, then Sam was doing something right. A link for enchanted poisons of Chinese culture caught his eye, and he clicked it.

It took him an hour to read through the whole website, but as he scanned his notes he thought he might have found his next attempt. The only issue was the ingredients. It would require a drive to find some of the stuff he needed, but it wasn't like he had anything else going on. This particular method would require him to create the poison, then cast a spell with black magic over it. Some of the spell work was more intensive than anything Sam had done before, but he was confident that he could figure it out. It looked like the victims of the poison in the past had it delivered by their captors via long cuts on their arms. Sam glanced at his scarred arms and snorted wryly. At least he had some practice on that front.

Shutting down the computer, heading outside, and locking up the front door, Sam pulled the bike he'd acquired when he came into town out from behind the house and climbed on, double checking to make sure he had his wallet and everything. He'd need to go into town to be able to get a ride to a place where he could find his ingredients. He set off down the drive towards the main road, hoping someone was headed down the highway willing to take along a six foot four inch stranger.


	5. New Tricks

Bobby was understandably surprised when Castiel appeared in front of him demanding to be informed about exactly how e-mail worked, and how it was tracked. Bobby explained as best he could, reminding the angel that he'd already tried tracing Sam's e-mail, but the kid was too smart for that to be much help.

"By human methods," Castiel corrected.

"What's that mean?" Bobby asked, raising an eyebrow. "You have some fancy angel way to track an e-mail?"

Castiel shook his head. "Angels rarely have need to interact with human technology. However, there should be no reason I cannot utilize what still remains of my grace to attempt to locate Sam through his transmissions over the Internet."

Bobby whistled appreciatively. "Huh. Learn something new every day, apparently. So, what, all you need to know is how it works on the human plane and you can adapt that to angel level?"

It took Castiel a moment to process the question into something he could figure out an answer to. "That is my intent."

Bobby passed him his laptop. "Be my guest."

Castiel sat down at the desk, Bobby's e-mail program up in front of him. Drawing on the explanation Bobby had just given about tracing an e-mail, he began to run the program, pausing every few seconds to glance at Bobby and ensure he was doing it right.

"Frankly, feathers, I was shocked you could figure out how to operate a cell phone," Bobby admitted. "You don't exactly scream tech savvy."

Deciding to leave that alone, Castiel focused on the program that was running the trace. As Bobby had said, it wasn't finding any signal to trace, but that was where Castiel's idea came in. Concentrating, he allowed a tendril of his grace to follow the search pattern of the program, immediately modifying the search to suit his own parameters.

Bobby watched quietly, not sure if whatever the angel was doing was working. The screen hadn't changed, but Castiel was focusing intently, so Bobby figured that counted for something.

After a long moment, the program completed its search, dinging to announce its verdict of "No Results." Castiel, however, made a noise of discovery.

"What, it worked?" Bobby asked, shifting his gaze to the angel.

"Close enough," Castiel amended. "Sam is in Idaho."

Bobby waited, but Castiel did not continue. "Cas, I don't know if you realize this, but Idaho's an entire state. That's a lot of ground to cover."

"I do not need to cover ground. This is enough information for me to locate Sam's consciousness. As long as he is asleep, I should be able to contact him directly. I have enough of a connection with him for that. It will not be easy, but it is possible." Castiel gave a small smile. "This is good news."

Bobby relaxed slightly, encouraged by Castiel's optimism. "Well, tell him from me that he's an idjit. Actually, next time you see Dean, tell him the same thing. Both of them are going to be the death of me." He sighed heavily and shook his head. "Just, watch over them?"

"Always," Castiel confirmed solemnly.

"Good," Bobby nodded.

Inclining his head towards Bobby in a farewell, Castiel vanished. He had a dreamwalk to prepare for.

* * *

_"Sam," Dean snapped at him, exasperated. "Why are you trying so damn hard? You betrayed my trust and turned yourself into a monster. I know you're trying to make up for it, but you're still a freak - always have been. Give it up already. It's hard enough trying to work with you, but you want me to forgive you too? What makes you think you deserve that?"_

_Sam stared determinedly at the wall, ignoring Lucifer as best as he could. When he was Dean, it was harder. Lucifer seemed to have discovered the exact balance between what Sam knew his brother would say and what was excessively cruel, and Sam was having trouble distinguishing Lucifer's whispers from real memories of things Dean had actually said to him. The sad thing was, there was enough overlap that anything Lucifer said rang a little too true._

_"You deserve to be punished, Sam," Dean continued. "That's how it works. You screw up, you pay for it. There's nothing that says you get to make up for it and everything goes back to normal. Monsters can't be redeemed. That's not how the world operates."_

_At least Lucifer wasn't getting creative with a knife again. It was a lot harder to survive his nights when Sam had to endure being sliced apart by his brother's hand, even if it wasn't really Dean. Lucifer had given up on doing much with Bobby's voice or face after realizing that Sam was more resistant to the vitriol Lucifer was attempting to deliver. Unfortunately, it was much harder to resist coming from Dean._

_"Sam," Castiel sighed, his voice unfathomably regretful._

_Sam immediately closed his eyes, tensing. He had no defense against the disappointment of Heaven. He could hold out for a long time against Lucifer's version of Dean, because he knew that Dean wouldn't actually say most of that to his face, whether or not he was thinking it. That helped Sam remember that he wasn't real. Castiel, however, was another matter entirely. The angel was so frank about everything, and had labeled Sam as a tainted soul from the beginning. It was much harder to disbelieve his voice._

_"You were given every opportunity to turn away from the path of destruction," Castiel told him sadly. "I tried my best to protect your brother from the danger you posed, but in the end you could not be stopped. At least you cannot cause him more harm now, hidden away as you are."_

_Sam took a deep, shuddering death, but did not respond. Answering as playing into Lucifer's hands, and he refused to play the archangel's games._

_"Your taint even disturbed Heaven," Castiel informed him, disgusted. "I wonder who will win out, in the event you die for real? Heaven, which clearly wanted to spit you back out, or Hell, where your taint has attempted to drag you since you were six months old? Perhaps even before then. If ever a child was born for evil, it was you, Sam Winchester."_

_"What in the name of my Father is happening here?" Castiel's voice thundered, cutting off whatever he had been about to say._

_Sam glanced over at Lucifer in confusion before he could stop himself, only to realize there were now two Castiels. "Uh..."_

_"Sam," they both said at once, then paused to glare at each other._

_"NO!" Sam shouted. "I'm not doing this. Lucifer, either get the hell out of my head or change back into what you're supposed to look like. I'm not dealing with whatever freaky mind game this is."_

_The Castiel who had interrupted spoke up quickly. "Sam, it is really me. I do not have a great deal of time, and you are unfortunately very difficult to find."_

_"Tell me about it," the other Castiel muttered. There was a pause, then he shifted into the blonde vessel he had introduced himself to Sam in the first place. "So, little brother, have you come to challenge me for his mind?"_

_Castiel's eyes flashed. "You have no claim here," he snarled._

_Lucifer laughed out loud. "He's my true vessel!" He protested, incredulous. "I have the only claim!"_

_"He has not agreed to house you, therefore he is his own man," Castiel argued. "You are attempting to use fictitious manipulations and torments to sway his choice, and it will stop."_

_"You don't have the power to stop me, Castiel," Lucifer reminded him, smiling slightly._

_"True," Castiel allowed, "but I will always have an advantage over you in his dreams."_

_Sam's eyes snapped to Castiel immediately, curious what that meant. As soon as he did, he felt a slight flaring in his chest, and realized somehow that Castiel was offering his grace like an anchor for Sam to latch onto. Instinctively, Sam did so. Suddenly, he knew that he did have a power in his own mind. Castiel had been able to enter his dreams as a friend, though Sam was sure that any connection between them was far weaker than what Castiel and Dean shared. Lucifer, on the other hand, had used his power, and was an unwelcome intruder. Focusing, Sam began to push against the intrusion in his mind, relying on Castiel's dwindling grace for support._

_"What do you think you're doing?" Lucifer asked, amused._

_"You don't belong in my head," Sam replied with a scowl. "You don't have permission to access any part of me, so GET OUT."_

_"Your little plan is not going to stop me," Lucifer warned him. "You will say yes to me, Sam. I will have my true vessel. I can keep you alive indefinitely."_

_"We'll see," Sam bit out, increasing the mental shove he was aiming at Lucifer, drawing on more of Castiel's grace. He knew instinctively that Castiel would never have been able to force Lucifer out of the dream, but because it was Sam's mind and Sam's dream, he had more power and leverage in the situation than he would have thought possible._

_Lucifer faltered slightly, then looked irritated. "Fine. Farewell, then for now. You know I will be back." With a final glare in Castiel's direction, Lucifer vanished._

_Sam slumped immediately to the floor, attempting to catch his breath. He let go of his grip on Castiel's grace, rubbing at his temples even though he knew that the motion would do nothing to assuage the mental stress he felt._

_"Sam," Castiel said softly._

_Slowly meeting the angel's gaze, Sam winced. "What are you doing here?"_

_"Trying to find you," Castiel replied, as thought it was obvious. "Entering your dreams is as close as I have been able to come thus far."_

_"Thanks," Sam acknowledged. "For helping me push him out. He doesn't usually leave before I wake up."_

_"Does he typically pretend to be those that care for you in order to stress your mind and heart?" Castiel asked quietly, moving forward to stand closer to the hunter._

_"That's pretty par for the course," Sam admitted. "It's usually either you or Dean."_

_His expression turning fierce, Castiel leaned down until he was level with Sam, meeting his eyes and saying firmly, "None of what I heard Lucifer say in my form was true. It was only before I knew you that I considered you to be a danger, rather than a person. Now, however, I call you a friend, and I value you greatly."_

_Sam felt a small smile on his face before he could help it. "Really?" He asked, feeling childish for allowing the word to escape._

_Castiel's expression softened immediately. "Sam, you are an unbelievably strong individual with one of the purest souls I have ever had the joy to lay eyes on. No one tries harder to do right than you. How could I do anything but admire you?"_

_Shaking his head almost immediately, Sam protested. "Cas, that can't be true. I'm tainted by demon blood, so there's no way I have a pure soul, and if I did, Heaven wouldn't have tried to eject me."_

_Castiel's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, eject you? You have always been meant for Heaven, you and Dean both."_

_Sam smiled sadly. "I'm sure Dean has, but Heaven was filled with memories of really fleeting happiness. They were all memories where I had been really upset about something. It was like every memory was designed to remind me of a time where I was happy for a moment, then I would smacked upside the head with all the pain I was dealing with at the time. It was pretty much horrible."_

_Castiel immediately adopted an expression of understanding. "You and Dean were manipulated." He stated matter-of-factly. "I had suspected it, but I am sure that Zachariah deliberately altered your perception of Heaven. He gave you memories designed to hurt you both. You with emotional pain from the events themselves, and Dean by drawing a wedge further between you. Dean expressed to me a false belief that you do not need his support."_

_"He lost faith in me," Sam murmured._

_"Then it should be restored," Castiel determined. "If this is the primary issue, then it can be resolved. Neither of you were to blame for the deception, obviously, so it should be solvable."_

_"It doesn't matter, Cas," Sam shook his head. "I have a more important mission to deal with. I'm trying to make Dean's task easier. Putting me back in the picture would just make his job more difficult."_

_Castiel was suddenly forceably reminded of the last moments before Lucifer's departure. "You intend to take your life to prevent Lucifer from using you a vessel," he realized, horrified._

_Not paying attention, Sam missed the expression on Castiel's face. "I haven't found a way to make it permanent yet," he admitted. "He always brings me back. I'm close though, I'm sure of it. I'm going to take his edge away from him, Cas. This is the best thing I can do to help Dean win. Do you see that? Surely you can understand why this is the right thing?"_

_Castiel shook his head urgently. "No, Sam! Whatever logic you may be attempting to follow is flawed. This is not the way to win this battle. I cannot-"_

Sam woke up sharply and winced at the ache in his head. The knowledge that Castiel had found his mind left him conflicted. On one hand, he wanted to believe that the angel was right, and was telling him the truth, but on the other hand he knew that what he was planning was the best solution. Sighing, he glanced out the window to see the sun rising. All of the supplies he needed for the poison were on the table next to his laptop, and he had already chosen the knife he wanted to use. If he was lucky, this would be the one to work, and Dean and Castiel would finally have an edge over the devil.


	6. We Have A Problem

Sam had already packed the box and set it in its designated spot, hoping that this time he wouldn't wake up, have to deactivate the e-mail to the post office, and unpack the box again.

Heading into the bathroom, Sam picked up the knife he had set out by the sink, and pulled the jar of poison he had mixed and enchanted. Somehow, he felt like this might be the one, but there was only one way to test that. He had hesitated briefly in his preparations, the memory of Castiel in his dreams from the night before giving him pause, but he pushed it away. Castiel didn't understand. Dean probably wouldn't either, but neither of them were there right now. This was about giving them a chance, giving the world a chance.

Sitting down next to the bathtub, Sam rolled his sleeves up and buttoned them in place, flexing his arms briefly to examine the veins. Unscrewing the jar, he dipped the knife in the poison and swirled it around, making sure it was liberally covered in the stuff. With a deep breath, he raised the knife to his right arm, grimacing at the multiple scars he already had. He wouldn't be following all of those scars, since they all ran horizontally, and he was planning to do a single vertical slash down each arm.

Positioning the knife in the crease of his elbow, Sam closed his eyes briefly before reopening them and pushing the blade down, piercing the skin with a flinch and drawing it down. It hurt like hell. Not that he'd been expecting it to feel good, but the pain was more intense than he'd anticipated. He dragged the knife down his skin as quickly as possible, dropping the knife with trembling fingers when the gash was complete. Lifting the poison jar with his still shaking hand, he poured more of the liquid into the wound, hissing at the burning sensation it caused.

Before he could lose his nerve, Sam gripped the knife again in his weakened hand, moving over to the poison jar to re-coat the blade, then immediately moving to replicate the wound on his left arm. His dominant hand was very unsteady from the blood loss, but he still had just enough control to finish opening the skin on his arm. It might not have been as deep, but it would do the job. Before he could lose his range of motion, Sam lifted the jar again and poured all that remained over both arms, being more liberal on the deeper cut. Some spilled, but he figured he'd placed enough into his blood by now.

His heart was pounding furiously, which Sam thought was probably counterproductive to the body's natural survival tendencies. If his body really wanted to save itself, his heart rate should be slowing to prevent the blood loss, not increasing to pump it out faster. It occurred to him that shock was probably going to come on soon, if it hadn't already. He wasn't sure what stage of dying he was at, exactly, but he was far more dizzy than he'd ever been from any injury, so at least he should pass out soon. The pain in his arms was starting to dull, so that was probably a sign of success. He lifted his left hand to his chest, gripping onto the amulet he was still wearing. The new position of his arm meant he was getting blood all over his shirt. It was probably funny that that kind of bothered him

As he drifted off, Sam imagined he could feel Lucifer's rage at having finally been defeated. He sincerely hoped that was the case. He was starting to get tired of the disappointment of coming back to life. He could feel his fingers slipping away from the amulet, and he tried to grip it tighter. Everything started to go dark, and he wasn't sure if he succeeded in keeping his hold or not.

* * *

"Dean!" Castiel's voice was loud and urgent as he appeared in the hunter's hotel room, directly in front of the television.

Dean had been relaxing with a beer after finishing his hunt, and his focus had casually been an old Star Trek re-run he'd managed to find on TV. Castiel's appearance startled him badly, and he managed to spill beer on his chest before he caught the bottle and calmed himself. "Dammit, Cas! Don't scare me like that!"

"I do not have time to cater to your many whims, Dean," Castiel snapped on him, striding forward and removing the beer from Dean's hand, pulling him to his feet and glaring at him.

Eyebrows skyrocketing, Dean held his hands up in surrender, confused. "Okay, wow. What the hell is going on, Cas? What's got you so worked up?"

"Sam," Castiel replied immediately, his expression shifting to one of concern.

"What did he do?" Dean asked, his face flickering back and forth between worry and trepidation.

Castiel scowled. "Nothing," he over enunciated, frustrated by Dean's reaction. "Yet."

"Okay, what's he going to do that's got you so worried?" Dean brushed his hand over his shirt to try and rub out the beer, and moved around Castiel towards the bathroom.

"I visited his dreams, to try and ascertain his location," Castiel explained. "I had to help him fight of Lucifer before we could successfully have a conversation."

There was a pause, and Dean turned again to study Castiel's expression before finally asking, "Is he all right?"

"Physically, he is fine," Castiel huffed. "Mentally, he is weary, and misguided. I need your help to stop him before he succeeds in his plans."

"What plans?" Dean demanded, exasperated. "You sound like you want me to be all freaked out, but you haven't told me what I need to be worried about yet!"

"Sam is in danger, Dean!" Castiel nearly yelled at him, fury building in his expression. "You should be concerned no matter what the imminent threat!"

Dean looked like he was about to argue, but after a moment he backed off. "Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry. What's going on?"

"Sam is trying to kill himself," Castiel finally informed him, his tone reverting back to barely concealed panic. "Evidently he has already tried, but Lucifer is resurrecting him each time, so during your separation, he has been endeavoring to find a way to make his death permanent, so Lucifer no longer has a way to bring him back."

Immediately Dean looked angry. "What the hell?" He blurted. "He thinks he just check out? What, is dealing with this mess too much for him?"

"Do not speak of that which you do not know, Dean Winchester!" Castiel practically snarled at him, moving forward in one swift movement to pin Dean against the wall. "Listen to me before you judge your brother. I believe his motivation is to make your apparent task of stopping this apocalypse easier. He wanted to convince me of the merit of his idea, that if Lucifer is trapped in his weaker vessel, he will be more vulnerable. While true, that does not mean this mission Sam has set himself is more important that his life." Castiel was fierce in his explanation of Sam's words during the dream. He needed Dean to help him, because he didn't believe he was enough to stop Sam by himself. Perhaps if Sam truly understood how much Castiel valued him, but he already knew that that was not the case. If Dean came with him, however, then Castiel had a far better chance of convincing Sam.

Dean was silent throughout Castiel's explanation, his expression varying as he listened. After a moment, he pushed lightly on Castiel's arm until the angel let him move away from the wall. "What the hell gave him the idea that killing himself is going to make anything easier on me?" He muttered, more to himself than Castiel.

"I believe, from what Sam explained, that this particular mission arose largely out of the manipulation that was your trip to Heaven," Castiel explained.

"What do you mean, manipulation?" Dean asked, brow furrowed.

Castiel sighed deeply. "Zachariah deliberately inflicted memories with painful emotional attachments on Sam, choosing moments of fleeting happiness that had lasting pain involved, and moments that were specifically designed to attack your relationship. Sam noticed, of course, but instead of coming to me with his concerns, assumed that Heaven was trying to push him out because he was corrupted." The look on Castiel's face spoke volumes as to what he believed about that idea.

Dean's mouth opened in shock, then shut again, then opened again to let out a low moan. "Oh, god." He reached up to run a hand through his hair, beginning to pace against the floor. "God, I'm such an idiot. And an asshole. Geez, why didn't he say anything?"

"Sam has a habit of being more self sacrificing than is good for him," Castiel pointed out.

Dean let out a choked laugh. "Yeah, no kidding. We need to go, like now. God, what the hell am I even going to say to him? He's probably beyond pissed at me. How could I have been so blind?"

"Sam is not angry," Castiel informed him. At Dean's questioning look, he added, "He seemed to believe that your loss of faith in him was justified."

A brief flash of horror flew through Dean's eyes before he schooled his expression into one of determination. "Do you know where he is?" He demanded.

"Close," Castiel admitted. "We will have to do some trial and error searching, but I was able to narrow it down while I was speaking with him."

"Then we need to go," Dean said firmly, moving forward to grip Castiel's arm. The angel nodded once, then they were gone.

* * *

It took Castiel about four different tries to find the place he'd glimpsed in Sam's mind, but he recognized it as soon as he saw it. When they landed and he indicated with a nod of his head to Dean that they were in the right place, the older Winchester immediately bolted for the door, slamming it open and lurching into an empty room.

"SAM?" Dean yelled, spinning around to take in the entire room.

Castiel moved past him, dread coiling low in his abdomen as he pushed into the small house's bathroom. He saw Sam's white face first, an expression he couldn't name formed with still features. His hair was messy, as though he'd woken up and not bothered to brush it. He saw Sam's shirt next, which was covered in blood from an odd angle. It took him a moment, once he had observed Sam's arms and the wounds on them, to realize that Sam had been holding onto the amulet he was wearing - Dean's amulet - and once his grip had faded, his arm had fallen to its awkward position. The other arm rested naturally at his side.

The floor was coated in blood, and an empty jar and knife lay haphazardly next to Sam. The tools he'd used to end his life, Castiel supposed. It was his guess that the jar had contained a poison of some kind. He had heard of similar death curses. If nothing else, at least, Sam was determined in achieving his goals. Castiel had a sudden desire to simultaneously gather Sam into his arms and protect him, despite the fact that nothing remained to protect, and smack him across the face for even considering doing this to himself. The worst part, Castiel realized, was that this was not the first time Sam had taken his life. Every other time, Sam had come back to an empty room, alone. A glimmer of hope reminded Castiel that there was a chance that Sam might once again return, but somehow he couldn't quite manage to embrace that hope.

Dean appeared behind Castiel in the doorway a second later, urgency still evident in his steps. He stopped dead in the door, taking in the scene over Castiel's shoulder. He saw the blood first. Any time Dean had ever seen that much blood in his life, it had been pouring out of a monster he had killed. Now, it was pooled around his little brother, and Dean couldn't help but wonder if Sam had died thinking Dean considered him a monster. He saw Sam himself next, and had to look away from the gashes in Sam's arms. The wounds were nasty, and Dean couldn't really believe Sam had done that to himself. As his eyes moved upwards, Dean froze at the sight of the amulet - his amulet - around his brother's neck. He couldn't have imagined feeling worse at that moment, but suddenly he did. Throwing away Sam's gift to him had been the most physical way he had been able to think of to signify how finished with everything he felt after they returned from Heaven. It hadn't just been about Sam, of course. The complete absence of God's intervention was pretty faith-shattering, both for him and for Castiel, but Dean had been blind to not realize what his action would signify to Sam.

Neither of them had said anything, and as far as Dean was concerned, there was nothing to say. Castiel seemed content to stand guard in the doorway, and neither of them seemed to want to move forward and confirm through touch that Sam was really gone. Suddenly, movement from outside caught Dean's attention. Latching onto the distraction like a drowning man to a raft, Dean bolted towards the front door, narrowly avoiding running into the postal worker who had just picked up a package from around the corner.

"Who the hell are you?" Dean barked, realizing belatedly that what he was looking at was a postal service uniform.

The man froze, looking frightened. "Uh, Nick? Nick Fields. I'm just here to pick up the package."

"What package?" Dean demanded, relaxing slightly at the complete absence of an apparent threat.

"Our office got an e-mail to pick up a package at this address, with instructions as to where it would be," Nick explained, holding up the box as evidence. "I'm guessing you're not the one sending it, then."

"No, that would be my...brother..." Dean managed to reply, stumbling over the mention of Sam. "Who's it to?"

"Uh..." Nick flipped the box around so he could check the label. "Dean Winchester, care of Robert Singer. South Dakota address."

"I'm Dean," Dean blurted immediately, reaching for the box. "I swear to God, that's me. Sam's my brother. He's the one mailing the stuff, but I came to see him, so he doesn't need to mail it to me."

Nick looked at him skeptically. "You got ID?"

That through Dean for a loop. Did he have any ID with his actual name on it? He pulled out his wallet and started thumbing through cards. He almost wilted with relief when he found an old library card stuffed down behind a fake credit card. It immediately made him want to cry as well. It was very old, and the only reason he had a library card with his name on it was because Sam had been too young at the time to get his own. Dean had hung on to it because he thought it was funny that he even had one. There was no reason for it to be in his wallet still, but somehow he'd managed to hang onto it. Coughing and collecting himself, he held it out.

"Sorry, it doesn't have a signature, but it has my name on it." Dean prayed desperately that this guy would just give him the damn box and leave.

Nick sighed and nodded. "You don't seem like the kind of guy I want to fight with on this," he said wryly. "Here. Just don't go telling anybody. If you turn out to be a psycho or something, I don't want to get fired for giving away someone else's mail."

Dean had to give a half smile at that. "Your job is safe, dude. Get out of here."

The postal worker nodded and took off for his truck, leaving Dean to take a deep breath and walk back inside.

Castiel hadn't moved, but he did swivel his head to see Dean when the hunter reentered the room. "What was that?"

"Sam had the post office pick up a package. I caught the guy before he took off. Good thing, too, since it's addressed to me at Bobby's place. I wouldn't have seen it for at least a week, probably more." Dean scratched the back of his neck uncomfortably and started hunting for something to cut through the tape with. He was reticent to touch the one knife he found, so he settled for a ball point pen and started poking the tape until it was weak enough he could tear it off.

"What was Sam sending you?" Castiel inquired curiously.

Dean didn't answer right away, opening the box and removing some foam to see Sam's laptop on top. He pulled it out and set it aside, putting the charging cable he found next on top of it. There was a note next that detailed where to find Sam's weapons, since he couldn't send them through the mail. That was exactly the kind of thing Sam would be concerned about, and Dean couldn't decide if that made him want to smile or if it made him feel like crying again. The only other thing in the box were three letters. One was addressed to Bobby, one to Castiel, and one to Dean.

"What are those?" Castiel asked, turning slightly to see Dean better.

"Sam, he, uh," Dean coughed slightly, trying to clear the lump in his throat. "He wrote us letters. There's one for each of us and for Bobby."

Castiel strode forward immediately and held out his hand. "May I see mine?"

Dean handed it to him without protest. He watched out of the corner of his eye as Castiel returned to his vigil by the door, then turned his gaze to his own letter. He didn't want to read it, but at the same time it was the only thing he wanted to do. He could hear a crinkling paper sound indicating that Castiel was opening his letter. With a deep sigh, Dean slowly slid a finger under the edge of the envelope and began to tear it open.


	7. Something To Write Home About

_Dear Dean,_

_I can't figure out how to start this letter. If Bobby read his first, then you'll already know why I'm writing in the first place, but if he didn't, then I don't want to just hit you with a massive revelation from the beginning. There's no helping it, I suppose. If you got this package, then you should have found the laptop and some instructions about how to find all of my guns and supplies. I didn't want to risk sending that stuff in the mail, obviously. You might have also found your amulet, which I've been holding onto for you. If I didn't include it, then I'm probably still wearing it, which means I either couldn't quite convince myself to take it off, or I wasn't sure my plan would work and didn't want to risk losing it. Dean, I'm writing because, unless I screwed up somehow, I'll be dead when you read this._

_I imagine that'll probably piss you off. I promise I'm not checking out on you or anything like that. This isn't about me, it's about everyone else. You're supposed to stop Lucifer. Before I set him free, that meant stopping me, and I'm sorry I fought you on that. Now though, stopping Lucifer will be ten times harder if you have to stop me as well, because he'll be far more powerful if he manages to get a hold of his true vessel. Obviously I'm not planning to say yes, but Lucifer has been trying to wear me down, and I don't want to give him a chance to succeed. I'm sorry I didn't tell you he was coming to me in my dreams. It's not like you could have done anything, so I didn't want to add more to your stack of things to be worried about._

_So, assuming I succeeded, Lucifer can't use me anymore. The plan is to use some kind of permanent death curse, or enchantment. Whatever I can find that will prevent him from resurrecting me. You shouldn't get this in error. All the other times Lucifer brought me back, I'd only been dead a few hours, so I set up an e-mail to go to the post office if I don't disable it at a certain time every day. If the box got delivered, then hopefully all went according to plan._

_Now, here's what I really want to say. I'm hoping that since this is a letter you'll be a captive audience and really hear what I'm trying to say. Write. Whatever. I'm sorry about last year. I know I keep saying it, but this isn't like me trying to get out of responsibility by brushing everything off with an apology. I'm genuinely sorry, Dean. I was wrong. I hope that by doing this for you, taking away Lucifer's vessel from him, I'll have earned your forgiveness. I know you lost your faith in me, and I wish I could have been the support you needed. I'm not sure if it makes a difference, but I wanted you to know that my memories in Heaven weren't my greatest hits. I think Heaven was trying to show me that I didn't belong. Passive aggressive warfare, maybe. All of those memories were times I was temporarily happy for one reason or another, but I was also cripplingly upset about something leading up to that event. Like the night I left. I was so happy to have my scholarship and acceptance letter, so happy to be going to school, but I was so upset about the argument with Dad that it felt like I could barely move. I just need you to understand that my best memories are not about leaving you. I hope that helps. I'd give anything to see your faith restored._

_Kick his ass for me, Dean. You and Cas make a great team, and I know you'll beat the Devil. Take care of Cas for me, please. I don't have anything to worry about if you two watch each other's backs. Also, because I have to say it, even if I know you'd give me grief for it, I love you, jerk._

_Good Luck._

_Sam_

Dean was gripping the paper so tightly he might have put puncture wounds in it with his fingernails. He wasn't aware enough to check. How the hell had he and Sam gotten so far apart that this was what their relationship had been reduced to? He could appreciate Sam's desire to redeem himself after the Ruby debacle, but there was something seriously wrong if he had thought the best way to redeem himself was to take himself out of the picture entirely!

There was also the strong implication that Sam had already tried killing himself multiple times before this, not just since they'd taken the second break. Dean couldn't quite wrap his mind around the fact that Sam had tried to kill himself and still managed to act like nothing was wrong. The fact that they hadn't talked about how Lucifer was impacting Sam weighed heavily on Dean. He couldn't help but feel like it was his fault for not paying closer and more caring attention to his brother. He'd let their fighting get in the way of everything else, to the point where he didn't even know that Sam was being pursued by Lucifer every night.

Dean was suddenly struck by an overwhelming desire to go into the bathroom and just hold his brother's prone form, apologizing to the still body for all the ways in which Dean had failed. It figured that he didn't realize how badly he'd screwed up until there was nothing he could do to fix it. He tried to remind himself that Sam had made mistakes too. Trust is a two way street, and just because Dean had messed up on his end didn't mean all the blame was on him. Somehow, though, that didn't seem to matter. Dean couldn't find any of his previous anger or resentment towards Sam anywhere in himself. The old cliche "you never know what you have until it's gone" popped into his head, and Dean felt conflicting urges to laugh at the thought and punch a wall in anger.

A choked off sound from the corner alerted Dean to Castiel's presence again, and he looked over to see Castiel gripping the door frame for support.

* * *

_Dear Castiel,_

_I almost didn't write you a letter, because I couldn't decide what to say. I actually re-wrote this after you came to my dream, since I realized I had different things to say now. This letter used to be a lot longer and more formal, but I realized that none of it was what I actually needed to say. You already know why I'm writing. If you got this letter, then I succeeded, and Lucifer will no longer be able to use his true vessel. I know you didn't want me to do this, but I had to. You and Dean actually have a chance now, and that's all that matters. Dean has to save the world, and you have to protect him._

_Thank you for telling me about Zachariah. I thought about re-writing Dean's letter to take that into account, but I decided it didn't really matter. I mean, suicides don't go to Heaven, right? Regardless, the fact that you bothered to tell me meant a lot. Everything you said, actually. The stuff about my soul, and how you value my friendship. I was so discouraged for so long because I was the one Heaven wanted dead, not the one they needed. The fact that that isn't true for you means more than I can say._

_Because I'm not sure I would ever have said this if I was still there, I wanted to tell you that you mean a lot to me too, Cas. I care about you more than I have any right to, given that you're an angel of the Lord. Still, I wanted you to know. Please, take care of Dean for me, and I know he'll take care of you. Stop the apocalypse and save the world. I know you and Dean have struggled with faith recently, but I want you both to remember that I have always had faith in both of you._

_Castiel, I love you. I needed you to know that. Thank you for not giving up on me._

_Sam_

Castiel gripped the door frame for support, feeling weak as he processed the words in the letter. Reading about how Sam viewed them from his perspective threw Castiel's own feelings into an entirely new light. Was everything he had felt for and about the younger Winchester love? The more he thought about it in that light, the more dense he felt for not interpreting it that way earlier. He supposed his relatively new introduction to human emotion was to blame, but he couldn't help but feel cheated that Sam was no longer here to share in the discovery with him.

Dean was behind him again, his own letter gripped tightly. "You, ah, you okay?" He managed to ask gruffly.

"Not particularly," Castiel answered honestly. "I do not know what to do."

"Me either," Dean admitted. "Everything in me is screaming at me to find a way to bring him back, but..."

"Sam would be furious," Castiel finished.

"Yeah," Dean agreed grimly. "Just...god, Cas, how did it come to this? That this was the best plan he had?"

Castiel sighed, his eyes stinging in an unfamiliar sensation. "I understand," he commented reluctantly. "I am so far from accepting of what he chose to do, but I understand why."

"I do too," Dean reluctantly agreed. "I hate it, but I get it."

They were silent for a moment, both unable to move away from the bathroom and Sam's lifeless body.

"Now what?" Dean finally asked. "Sam's parting charge to me was to stop Lucifer. How the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"We will find a way," Castiel said firmly. "We will make something of his sacrifice."

Dean leaned against the wall and let his head fall back against it. "Cas, how am I meant to focus on saving the world when I couldn't get my head out of my own ass far enough to save my own brother?"

Castiel didn't have a response for that, and they lapsed back into silence.

"Should we...?" Castiel began to suggest, knowing that Sam would have wanted his body salted and burned, to prevent any future risk of haunting.

"I can't yet," Dean said quietly.

Castiel merely nodded. The thought of finalizing Sam's death in such a way was abhorrent to him, but he couldn't think of what else to do. Simply standing around wasn't going to accomplish anything. If he truly loved Sam as he had decided he did, then he should be following Sam's wishes. Namely, taking care of Dean and stopping Lucifer. Easier said than done.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but the thought died immediately as Sam's body suddenly seized violently, falling into a crumpled position on the floor and twitching harshly before coming to an abrupt stop, leaving him deadly still once more.

Castiel and Dean were both frozen in shock, but Dean came out of it first. "WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?" He yelled, pushing past Castiel to hold two fingers to his brother's neck, hunting for a pulse.

"Is he...?" Castiel couldn't finish the sentence, but his eyes were wide.

Dean turned back to Castiel with pure shock on his face. "Cas, he's got a pulse."

* * *

_Sam couldn't figure out why he was aware, but not awake. He should be dead, he was sure of that, but somehow he wasn't._

_"Sorry about the wait," Lucifer announced casually. "That poison you used was a bitch to work around. Points for creativity."_

_Sam let his head fall back and he closed his eyes with a moan. "Dammit."_

_"I will always bring you back, Sam," Lucifer scolded him. "Sometimes it may take me longer, but I'll always bring you back."_

_"Why am I not awake then?" Sam questioned. "You usually just wake me back up like nothing happened."_

_Lucifer slowly smiled at him, like a predator at his prey. "I brought you back, Sam. I never promised to always wake you up. After all, you can say yes just as easily trapped in your mind as you can while awake, and this way I don't have to relinquish you to our brothers."_

_Sam fought against the pang that burst through his chest at the mention of Dean and Castiel, scowling at Lucifer instead. "You really think I'll change my mind just because you put me in a coma?" He asked derisively._

_Lucifer chuckled. "I can be very creative, Sam, especially with unfettered access to you whenever I want."_

_Sam felt cold, and he shook his head at Lucifer. "I'll never give in," he warned him._

_"You will," Lucifer promised._


	8. Enter Sandman

Castiel had moved forward and scooped Sam effortlessly into his arms before Dean had time to react, pushing past him out of the bathroom and moving to the bed to lay Sam gently down. The younger Winchester was still deathly pale, but the gaping wounds in his arms and knit themselves back together, and he was breathing.

"What's going on?" Dean asked, only a beat behind Castiel as he moved to stand on the other side of the bed, taking in Sam's too still form as he did so.

"Lucifer must have been able to resurrect him after all." Castiel mused, arranging the pillows to ensure Sam's comfort. There was little he could do, but it seemed a good plan to ensure Sam wouldn't wake up with a neck crick. Because he would wake up. It was too awful to consider any other outcome.

Dean made a sort of choking noise, then asked weakly, "Is it wrong if I'm grateful?" Feeling gratitude towards Lucifer for anything seemed completely wrong, but Dean couldn't find it in him to be anything but thankful for Sam's healing.

Glancing up, Castiel shook his head. "It is a complicated situation. I am unspeakably indebted to my brother for this." Castiel was conflicted on that front. He didn't want to consider that he might owe anything to Lucifer, but he couldn't deny that he was overwhelming grateful to his brother for saving Sam.

Dean didn't comment on that, instead focusing on the skin that was no longer torn open by a knife wound. For the first time, he noticed the smaller scar lines that ran across his brother's arms, mostly up and down his biceps and the crease of his elbow. They littered both arms liberally. Horrified, Dean gently held out Sam's right arm, showing it to Castiel on the other side of the bed. "What the hell is this?" He asked, panic barely suppressed in his voice.

Castiel looked unbearably sad, but not surprised. "It may have helped handle Lucifer's consistent harassment," he offered as an explanation. "He did not say so, but I would theorize that Sam's inherent psychic abilities would make him vulnerable to Lucifer's advances while awake as well. He likely turned to pain as a grounding force, to give himself some control over the attacks."

"God," Dean moaned, setting Sam's arm back down gently and sitting down beside his brother heavily. "Is he trapped with Lucifer right now? Is that why he won't wake up?" He felt smacked upside the head by his own blindness again, and he sincerely hoped Sam would wake up so Dean could start apologizing. Sam had apologized enough. It was Dean's turn to start making amends.

"Probably," Castiel admitted. He carefully smoothed Sam's hair away from his face, enjoying the satisfaction he gleaned from that simple action. The feeling was quickly chased away by the reality that Sam wasn't present to share the moment with him.

"How do we fix it? You said you kicked Lucifer out of his head last night, right?" Dean asked desperately. He didn't really understand what Castiel had done in Sam's dreams, and it hadn't been the most important thing to ask about at the time.

Castiel looked pained. "No, I offered what remained of my grace to Sam as a support system so he could eject Lucifer from his own mind. Even then, I am not sure if Sam forced Lucifer out or if he decided to stop arguing and just leave."

Dean wilted slightly, looking far more helpless than Castiel had ever seen him. "So what the hell do we do?"

"Sam is strong," Castiel said firmly. "Far stronger than he is given credit for. This is our chance to show faith in him, as he has shown faith in us."

Dean wasn't entirely sure how to process that. After a moment, he reached forward to gently pull his amulet off of Sam's neck. At Castiel's questioning look, he said fiercely, "He's going to wake up, and the first time he sees me I want to be able to fix this."

Nodding in agreement, Castiel watched as Dean replaced his amulet, feeling pleased at all the gesture implied. "We may be able to get through to him," he thought out loud.

"They say coma patients can hear when they're being talked to," Dean added eagerly. "Maybe we can help him fight off Lucifer." He could remember other times he and Sam had talked to each other when the other had been unconscious for some reason. Somehow, it always seemed to help.

"That is my hope," Castiel agreed. He gently laid a hand on Sam's shoulder, leaning forward. "Sam, can you hear me? You are alive, but you are trapped in your mind. Come back to us."

Other than what looked like movement behind Sam's eyelids, nothing changed. He was still too pale, and only the faintest of movements in his chest made it appear as though he was breathing.

"C'mon, little brother," Dean urged, his hand resting on Sam's forearm. "Come back to us." He took a deep breath and prayed. Not to God, not even to anyone specific, but just prayed, hoping that somehow, Sam would have the strength to fight off the Devil.

* * *

_Sam was sitting in a motel arm chair, doing his best to ignore the man in front of him. He knew it wasn't real. The room looked just like any other he and Dean would have stayed at, but it wasn't real. Lucifer had trapped him in his own mind. It wasn't real. The smells, the feeling, the noise, all of it was just like it should be, like the real world. It wasn't real._

_"Dammit, Sam, we can't just run around fixing your mistakes until we're old and gray," Dean huffed at him. "It's exhausting. Just say yes to Lucifer and this'll be over. I won't have to deal with you, and you won't have to worry about all your crippling guilt."_

_The worst part was how rational it all sounded. Sam shook his head, knowing what happened next. Lucifer had taken to switching back and forth between Dean and Castiel, depending on which emotional tactic he had chosen to exploit._

_"Sam," Castiel sighed, disappointed. "You need to give in. Lucifer is the most beautiful of all the angels. He can make everything easier on you, and you won't have to be in pain any longer. Don't you want that?"_

_God help him, he did want that. It was the most tempting thing about Lucifer's offer, the potential for a complete absence of his own consciousness._

"Sam, can you hear me? You are alive, but you are trapped in your mind. Come back to us." Castiel's voice was soothing with an overlay of urgency.

_Confused, Sam looked up. Had Castiel somehow entered his mind again? He hadn't had the impression Castiel was strong enough to make a habit of that. Sure enough, there was only one Castiel in front of him, but he hadn't said anything additional._

"C'mon little brother, come back to us," Dean's voice urged next.

_Sam wasn't an idiot. He was only confused for a few minutes before the sudden realization came to him. Dean and Castiel had found him. They were with him in the real world, trying to get him out of the mental prison Lucifer had him in._

_"You are imagining things, Sam," Castiel told him sadly. "No one is coming for you. You need to end this, now."_

_Sam wished he had the strength to push away Lucifer's illusions, but without Castiel's grace supporting him, he didn't think he had a chance. He needed to wake up though. If Castiel and Dean were in the cabin with his body, that meant they weren't out trying to stop Lucifer like they were supposed to. Sam knew they were stubborn, so he expected that they weren't likely to move until they got him to wake up. The problem was, he wasn't sure he could._

_Sighing, now that Sam was distracted and not focusing on his illusions, Lucifer reappeared and scowled at him. "You know that the only real motivation you can give them is saying yes," he pointed out. "Otherwise, they'll just stay tied down to you."_

_That made sense, but Sam shook his head vehemently and glared at the archangel. "No," he bit out. "Get the hell out of my head."_

_"That's not going to work," Lucifer chided him, almost amused._

"Sam, you're strong. Stronger than I ever gave you credit for. I know you can do this. Kick the Devil's shiny ass out and wake the hell up!" Dean's voice again, more urgent now.

_Sam was almost tempted to laugh at his brother's words. Instead, he took them to heart and focused hard. Part of the reason Lucifer had such access to his mind, even during the day, was because of his predilection for psychic activity. Surely that had to go both ways. If Lucifer could use that ability as a channel, shouldn't Sam be able to use it as a weapon?_

_"Sam," Lucifer said in warning. "Do not test me."_

_Sam ignored him, closing his eyes and searching for the part of himself he'd always gone to to draw power while under Ruby's thrall. It was different, without the taint of the demon blood guiding him, but it was still there. His natural ability was vastly different from that he'd been provided with through the blood, but at least he still had it. Taking a deep breath, Sam gripped at the power with all his might and allowed it to strengthen him, shoving out at Lucifer's presence with all his might._

_Lucifer visibly stumbled, shock clear on his face, though he schooled it quickly. "No parlor tricks, Sam," Lucifer chastised._

_Sam felt the surprise of his minor success flood him with confidence, and he quickly pushed at Lucifer again. "Get. The. Hell. Out!" He shouted._

_"NO!" Lucifer yelled back, stepping forward. "You will say yes to me, Sam Winchester!"_

Castiel interrupted again, his voice firm and supportive. "No one has more faith than you, Sam, and you can defeat Lucifer. I have faith in you."

"I believe in you too," Dean added immediately.

_Taking courage and strength from the words, no matter how surprising they were, Sam pulled himself up and hissed his next words at the Devil. "No, I won't. Really, you think the way to win my allegiance is to lock me inside my own head, where I can fight against you with my inherent psychic abilities?" Giving a dry chuckle, Sam added dryly, "Face it. It's in your best interest to let me wake up. If you want to wear me down, you're going to have to find some new tricks."_

_After a moment, Lucifer slowly straightened up and nodded. "Very well," he agreed. "I'm nothing if not pragmatic, Sam. If you want to take back your mind, I'll simply have to find a new battleground. You will say yes. It is your destiny."_

_"Not here, and not today," Sam said firmly._

_Lucifer nodded once in a farewell, then vanished, leaving Sam alone in the fake motel room construct Lucifer had stuck him in. He closed his eyes again and took a deep breath._

Then, Sam slowly opened his eyes.


	9. Eyes Wide Open

As his eyes slowly opened, Sam saw both Dean and Castiel simultaneously. Both were leaning over him, Dean looking more worried than Sam had seen him in a long time, and Castiel appearing to be wavering between overwhelming sadness and a glimmer of pure hope. Sam felt his head pulse in warning of an approaching migraine, and he winced before he could school his expression.

Dean moved first, lunging forward and hauling Sam into a fierce hug. "You  _bastard_ ," he choked out, relieved. "Don't scare me like that again. God, Sam, what were you thinking? Don't answer that." He held his younger brother tightly for longer than he had since they were kids before reluctantly moving back.

Sam met Dean's eyes, clearly shocked, and opened his mouth to reply, when suddenly a glint of light off the amulet caught his attention and he lost all the words he'd been about to say. He'd never dreamed he'd ever see it on Dean's neck again, and the fact that Dean had taken it back before they'd even managed to wake Sam up was astonishing to him. Fixated on the amulet, he almost missed Dean talking to him again.

"I'm sorry I let them drive us apart," Dean told him firmly. He felt sick every time he thought about Heaven now. He couldn't believe he'd missed all the signs! Sam had noticed, why hadn't he? Refocusing, Dean waited until Sam met his eyes again, then added, "It will  _never_  happen again, Sammy. I promise."

Sam felt his eyes sting at the words, and he blinked rapidly to prevent himself from completely losing it. He'd stopped expecting anything a long time ago, and to hear Dean not only apologizing for their most recent rift, but also promising reparations for the future was staggering. "Thanks," he managed to get out, coughing slightly to clear his throat and blinking again to clear his vision.

"Sam," Castiel said quietly, more weight and meaning in that one word than anything else he could have said.

The younger Winchester's head whipped around immediately, meeting Castiel's gaze and nearly crumpling under the weight of it. "Cas," Sam breathed, a thousand emotions running through his mind in an instant. "I-"

Before Sam could speak, Castiel was at his level, sitting on the bed and tugging him forward into an embrace. Two hugs from the two people closest to him in the space of a few minutes was already overwhelming, but any kind of contact with Castiel was a shock.

"Sam Winchester," Castiel murmured. "The boy with the pure soul. It is an honor to be loved by you, Sam, and I hope you will accept my reciprocation of your feelings."

Sam was distantly aware that Dean was staring at them both in open-mouthed shock, but he blocked out the periphery information to focus solely on Castiel. "Cas," Sam said again, aware that he breathed the name more than he spoke it. "You can't-"

"I can, Sam," Castiel said firmly. "I will not lie to you, so why do you doubt me when I tell you these things?"

"Because-" Sam started to protest, but he cut himself off. Castiel was right. The angel was many things, but a liar was not one of them. He hadn't been fully honest with them when they'd first met him, but once he'd left Heaven's mission for their sakes, he'd been a valued ally and friend. "You're right," he finally admitted.

"Believe this, also, Sam," Castiel urged him gently. "Your death was a heart wrenching experience I do not ever wish to experience again."

Sam's breath caught in his throat at that revelation. For an angel to describe something as heart wrenching, he couldn't imagine the kind of pain that expressed. He wouldn't have dreamed that he could be the cause of that kind of emotion for an angel, and he felt both his physical and metaphorical eyes open wide with realization at that statement.

"I second that," Dean said wryly from behind him. When Sam twisted to see his brother's face, he caught just a glimpse of the pain Dean was brushing away with his natural bravado.

It finally struck Sam that, as rational as he still believed his idea was, his death would have more significant consequences then he had realized. "I'm sorry," he murmured, glancing between Dean and Castiel to make it clear he meant both of them. "I didn't want to hurt either of you. It was never about that."

"Sam," Dean sighed exasperatedly. "Dude, yes, taking out Lucifer is kind of important, but we will find a much better way to do it then taking you out first. Please tell me that you didn't get this idea in your head just because I was an ass."

"No!" Sam argued immediately, alarmed. "No, Dean, it wasn't about you." At Dean's skeptical look, he added reluctantly, "Not entirely. This wasn't some whiny attempt to end the pain or anything as dramatic as that." He rolled his eyes at Dean's expression. "I'm serious. I didn't just decide to off myself because you were upset with me. You know I'm not that fragile."

Dean smirked slightly, but the expression faded and he was left mostly with curiosity. He glanced at Castiel, who had settled down slightly behind Sam and laid a comforting hand on the young hunter's shoulder. "Sammy, I get what you were trying to do, but did you really think that this was the best option? Did you really think Cas and I would just sit back and be okay with it?"

Sam made a face. "I figured you'd be pissed, actually," he admitted. "I wasn't sure how Cas would react." He glanced back slightly and relaxed when he saw the comforting expression Castiel was giving him.

"Promise me you aren't going to keep trying," Dean said firmly. "You and I are going back on the road, we are going to stop the freaking Devil, and neither of us is going to say yes. We'll find a way to keep Lucifer out of your head so you can sleep, and maybe we can work on finding a way to keep him out of your brain's vision circuit or whatever."

Sam visibly started. "How'd you know I was seeing him during the day too?" He blurted.

Castiel gently ran a finger over the scars on Sam's arm and said softly, "It was a theory, but I assumed these were the result of a need to ground yourself and keep Lucifer at bay."

Sam shrugged uncomfortably. "Between the suicides and the cutting, I'm not really helping my case here, am I?" He said with a huff.

Dean chuckled lightly. "Not really, but now that we know, you don't have to deal with this by yourself. No more trying to kill yourself, and we'll find a way to keep Lucifer out. We're going to be a team again, and we're going to win."

"Team Free Will," Castiel added, a slight smile on his face.

Dean gave the angel an odd look. "You were unconscious when I said that," he pointed out.

"I am also an angel," Castiel replied, as though that explained everything.

Sam had to smile at that, and leaned back into Castiel's touch almost unconsciously, reveling in the repaired relationships he thought he'd lost. Suddenly, a thought occurred to him and he turned to Dean. "Did you guys find my laptop?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah. I may have scared the crap out of the mail guy when he tried to take your box."

Relieved that he wouldn't have to wait until the box arrived at Bobby's to retrieve his computer, the rest of the implications of Dean finding the box caught up with Sam and he blanched. "So, you read your letters then," he said hesitantly. It occurred to him that the fact that Castiel knew he loved him should have told him that up front, but he had just been dead for most of the morning, so he figured he could be forgiven for being a little slow on the uptake.

A storm cloud passed Dean's face briefly before clearing. "Yeah. Bobby's is still in the box, but we read ours."

Sam considered that for a moment, then nodded. "I'm glad," he decided. "You needed to know all of that. Both of you."

Dean seemed to be struggling for a response, and he finally gave up and just reached forward to haul Sam into another hug, catching his brother off guard. "We're going to finish this as a team," he reiterated. "No more splitting up because we suck at communicating."

Giving a choking laugh, Sam hugged him back and nodded. "Deal."

"Okay," Dean pulled back and cleared his throat, standing. "So I'm going to pack all your crap and then we're getting out of here. You and Cas...catch up, I guess." Dean raised an eyebrow at his brother that clearly indicated that that relationship was going to be a topic of discussion later.

Sam inwardly groaned, but couldn't find it in him to really be nervous. He turned back to Castiel and lay his head on the angel's shoulder. "Sorry," he murmured.

"For what?" Castiel asked him curiously, running a hand through Sam's soft hair and relishing how pleasant the sensation was.

Sam made a noise that could almost have been called a purr before he replied. "Everything. The blood, Lucifer, running off, killing myself, not telling you how I felt earlier. I'm sure there's more."

Castiel was sure that had he been human, the way he was cradling Sam would have been uncomfortable, or awkward, but as an angel, he merely appreciated the closeness and protectiveness their positioning allowed him to show. "You were forgiven long ago," He informed Sam gently. "As far as feelings are concerned, we will have time to uncover and appreciate them fully, I am certain."

"You think we'll win and come out of this in one piece?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"While my faith in Heaven may have been shaken, I have always found reason to have faith in the Winchesters," Castiel informed him with a smile. "I do not believe even Lucifer can triumph against the two of you when you set your minds to something."

"Hey, we only got this far because we had you," Sam pointed out.

"You triumphed over much adversity long before you met me," Castiel corrected him. "However, I am glad to be a part of your team."

"Good," Sam smiled. "I'm not planning on letting you go any time soon."

"Nor I you," Castiel replied quietly.

They remained there on the bed, relaxing in the quiet, until the sudden reappearance of Dean shattered the silence. "All right," Dean announced, tossing a duffle on the bed. "I think I got everything. I also texted Bobby so he knows we found you."

Sam snorted. "Bobby doesn't text."

"Doesn't mean he can't read," Dean shot back. "I'll call him later. Now, can we get out of the creepy ass cabin with the giant bloodstain in the bathroom? Please?"

Sobering instantly, Sam nodded and sat up, turning to Castiel. "Whenever you're ready."

In a flash, they were gone, leaving behind Sam's headquarters for his one-man attack on Lucifer's plans. Now, he was no longer working alone, and if his brother and the angel he loved had anything to say about it, he'd never be on his own again.


	10. Epilogue: Snapshots

Predictably, Bobby smacked the back of Sam's head and then promptly pulled him into a hug once he'd gotten the whole story from Dean. "Don't you ever scare me like that again, boy, you hear?" He growled fiercely.

Chuckling lightly and unable to keep the smile off his face, Sam hugged him firmly back and nodded against the older man's shoulder. "Promise, Bobby. Sorry."

"Damn idjit," Bobby muttered as he pulled away. "It's a wonder I'm not bald with all the hair pulling I do 'cause of you two."

Dean grinned at that from where he was leaning against the doorway. "I guess we aren't working hard enough then!" He chimed in, teasing.

Bobby groaned low under his breath and turned around, heading for the kitchen. He pulled out the coffee maker and a bottle of whiskey, rolling his eyes when he caught the look Sam was giving him. "Hey, if I want my joe to have a kick, then I damn well will."

"C'mon, Sam," Dean needled him, pushing past to help Bobby with the coffee. "It's five o'clock somewhere. Get the stick out of your ass. Or get Cas to help, whatever floats your boat."

Sam turned bright red and left the room, only returning when Dean had stopped chuckling and the beeping noise indicated the coffee was ready. Once Dean had gotten over the initial "weirdness," as he'd termed it, he'd started to take great relish in embarrassing Sam as much as possible. It was a source of great irritation for him that Castiel had no shame, and therefore couldn't be embarrassed.

"I think I will have a little jack in my coffee," Sam admitted wryly, ignoring Bobby's snort.

* * *

The Castiel and Sam thing was weird. Dean had gotten over his initial surprise, putting it on the back burner until he was sure he didn't have to worry about Sam making any sudden decisions to disappear and try and end his life again. They had had a brief conversation where Sam explained his own feelings, and Dean had given Castiel a talk about not hurting Sam, which the angel took almost more seriously than Dean had intended, and that had been that.

It was still weird though. Dean wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but he'd kind of figured that Sam and Castiel would be like anyone else Sam had ever been with. It wasn't like that though. Sam and Castiel weren't a couple-y couple. They were almost always in contact, but it wasn't ever sexual, at least not that Dean witnessed. He'd never even seen them kiss. He'd seen Castiel kiss Sam's forehead, but that was as steamy as it got, no matter how lewd Dean was with his teasing implications. They were always touching though. Holding hands, sitting too close, and Castiel often had his arm around Sam.

It took Dean a while to figure out that however Castiel was touching Sam, it was always in some kind of protective manner, and the second he did so, Sam seemed to lose any weight on his shoulders and relax entirely. It had been years since Dean had seen his brother that relaxed, and for that alone Dean was in approval.

They weren't getting separate rooms or going on dates or anything, but Dean figured that they didn't need to fall into any of his pre-conceived notions of what a relationship was supposed to look like. After all, it was Sam and Castiel. They weren't ever going to fit into a normal box anyway, even if they tried. So, Dean left it alone, and appreciated how much it seemed to benefit both his brother and best friend.

Still, it was a little weird.

* * *

It turned out that with the proper motivation, namely, being reassured that everyone actually wanted him, Sam could be more determined and productive than the rest of them combined. He'd taken Castiel with him when he went to track down Gabriel, but Castiel maintained that it was Sam that had managed to convince the archangel to get his head out of the sand and come help them.

Gabriel was later heard complaining that Sam was essentially an obnoxious rat terrier when he wanted something, and it was only out of deference to Castiel that Gabriel didn't turn Sam into a dog out of sheer irritation. For all his whining, however, Gabriel seemed to warm to his new companions, and eventually stopped egging Dean on every chance he got.

Apparently, Gabriel had known how to get Lucifer out of the picture all along, and he reluctantly informed them that the horsemen's rings would re-open the cage. As Dean eloquently pointed out, "Shoving someone immortal in a hole is a hell of a lot easier than trying to kill them."

The problem was figuring out how to get Lucifer in the cage. As time went by and they acquired the remaining rings, the last of which involved the most bizarre conversation Dean figured he'd ever have (because really, who eats lunch with Death?), the problem of how to actually get Lucifer in the cage became more pronounced.

Sam told Castiel his idea about jumping into the cage first, and he really shouldn't have been surprised when Castiel's expression grew dark, and he promptly flew them to Dean and made Sam repeat his idea. He wasn't surprised at all that they both gave a resounding no.

"Even I think it's a bad idea, kiddo," Gabriel told him. "Although, you get brownie points for the self-sacrificing martyr thing. We'll find another way. You think I want to deal with these two if you get trapped in the cage?"

So, that was that. They were going to find another plan. Sam wasn't optimistic, but he also underestimated the motivation both Castiel and Dean seemed to have behind their search. No one was willing to let him go to Hell to stop Lucifer, and he had to admit that that fact gave him hope.

* * *

In the end, it was a spell. Gabriel had been the one to find it, but the concept had been Castiel's idea. Dean, being Michael's true vessel, would have to cast the spell, and Sam was on guard duty, to make sure no demons got to Dean before he finished. Gabriel would distract Lucifer, and Castiel would keep an eye out for any angelic interference. None of them trusted Michael or Zachariah not to get involved.

The spell would lock down Lucifer's vessel for just long enough for Gabriel to literally push him into the cage. That was it. It was the simplest plan of any they'd thought of, but also the only one Sam thought might actually work. Hope was a powerful thing.

It didn't go smoothly, but they won, which made it all worth it. The biggest issue ended up being Lucifer mentally attacking Sam as a distraction, but Sam had been practicing. Once they'd found Gabriel, he'd given Sam some pointers on building up his latent abilities to be able to fight of Lucifer's advances. After that, Sam hadn't seen him during the day at all, and if he had come at night, Sam was nearly always able to kick him out of his own head. Lucifer only had the upper hand for a split second before Sam's mental push back had caused a physical stumble, which Gabriel immediately capitalized on.

After that, Sam had only had to take out three demons before Dean finished the spell, Lucifer froze, Castiel opened the cage, and Gabriel pushed Lucifer in. As soon as the cage closed, it was deathly quiet for a solid minute before any of them let themselves believe it was over. After that, they allowed themselves to breath.

Castiel held Sam's hand as Dean did a brief victory dance and pulled them all into quick hugs, too high on success to care. He did pull back immediately after hugging Gabriel though, to make sure the archangel hadn't done anything to him.

"Don't worry," Gabriel reassured him. "I have to behave like an adult now."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked curiously.

Gabriel looked resigned, but glanced upwards. "Someone has to keep an eye on Michael. Far be it from me to imply that Castiel leave Earth, so I'm going to go play responsible archangel for a while and make sure there aren't any more impending wars."

"Thank you, brother," Castiel told him solemnly.

"Eh, don't worry about it. Have a drink on me and celebrate." Gabriel snapped his fingers, and suddenly the Winchesters and Castiel were seated in a booth at a bar, each holding a cold beer.

Dean was furious until he got outside and realized they were just down the block from the building they'd tracked Lucifer to, and therefore the Impala. Relaxing, he headed back inside and took his seat. "Doesn't hurt to celebrate a little," he acknowledged.

* * *

A few months after the apocalypse ended, Dean opened the door to their motel room of the week to find Sam and Castiel kissing gently in the center of the room.

"Finally!" Dean blurted, shuffling awkwardly when both Sam and Castiel immediately turned to look at him with annoyance. "It's just, you know, I was starting to doubt that either of you even had a libido."

Castiel looked confused, but Sam rolled his eyes. "Just because you'll go after anything that breathes," he shot back with a smirk.

"Bitch," Dean snarked.

"Jerk," Sam replied with a grin. The comradarie between them kept improving, and it was a wonderful feeling to have their bond restored.

Castiel smiled at the exchange, thankful that the brothers were stronger than ever. Being able to touch Sam, know he was safe, and hear the banter between him and Dean made everything they'd gone through worth the fight.

Sam had caught him thinking, and tapped his forehead to get his attention. "What's got you so focused?" He asked teasingly.

"I find more reasons to be grateful that we saved humanity every day," Castiel replied simply, smiling at Sam's cheerful expression. He'd found himself growing increasingly addicted to the sight of his hunter happy.

"Oh, me too," Dean agreed, holding up the bag he'd walked in with. "The chick at the diner gave me extra pie because she thought I was cute." He grinned broadly, clearly proud of himself.

Sam and Castiel both chuckled at him, and moved forward to take a seat at the small kitchenette table with Dean. As the pie was served, they looked over at other and smiled. This was what made every struggle worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted on [FanFiction](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/10253881/1/The-Lucifer-Problem) because Rose0 asked me to write it for her, and I really loved the idea, so I just kind of took it and ran with it. If you want to send me a prompt, you can do it in comments here on AO3, or in a PM on FanFiction, or shoot me an ask on my [Tumblr](http://supernaturallyimagined.tumblr.com/)!


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